


Trust Your Head, Trust Your Friend, Trust Your Heart

by SpringLoadedColors



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Rhetoric AU, The Infection Is Kind Of Gross Sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 30,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpringLoadedColors/pseuds/SpringLoadedColors
Summary: After being accidentally awoken by the Radiance, the Dreamers must embark on a journey to stop the infection using the power of persuasion.
Comments: 98
Kudos: 258





	1. New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the main story of my Rhetoric AU where Monomon, Lurien, and Herrah represent logos (logic), ethos (credibility), and pathos (emotion) respectively.

“This is a dream,” whispered Monomon in realization; she was certain of this fact. 

She remembered designing the seals that would contain the Hollow Knight and agreeing to be a seal herself. She remembered making arrangements for her final students and asking Quirrel to take her mask somewhere far away. She remembered giving her final consent as she lowered herself into the large, empty tank, knowing that her rest would be as eternal as the kingdom it protected. Everything since had simply been a wandering of her own brilliant mind, so how could the towering walls of her Archive around her be anything else?

Beckoning whispers still echoed through the walls of a place so much like home, but now she refused to listen. She could even occasionally see a faint mote of essence flake off one of the large tubes of acid that were scattered throughout her Archives, further confirming her hypothesis that this was a dream. Even so, she had an irrational suspicion that she wasn’t truly alone.

“This is a dream,” Monomon repeated, raising her voice in case anyone was listening. While trying to find a solution to the infection, she had extensively studied the few ways to break the barrier of one’s mind, but all were unlikely possibilities. On top of her other protections, her mask had been taken to nullify the power of a dream nail; the only thing that could break through the layers of dream magic and weaver-spells was the power of a higher being. She feared the worst had come to pass, that the Radiance had broken free, but it was a possibility she had prepared for nevertheless.

At that moment, Quirrel rushed around a corner, breaking her train of thought.

“Madam!” he shouted, grabbing hold of her attention. The real Quirrel had left the Archives long ago, but still, she decided to humor his look-alike.

“What seems to be the matter, my dear assistant?” she asked; she wondered what simple concerns he would express in this dream, her own reflection of reality.

“I was just organizing the acid tubes when I came across some interesting information on the Old Light, so I was wondering if you would like to see!” he cheerfully replied. Yes, Quirrel was curious, but he was putting a lot of emphasis on his findings given he worked in a place where you learned something new every day. His newfound interest also happened to reflect her hypothesis from moments ago. It could very well be a coincidence, or her own thought reflecting in the dream around her, but she still had to check

“Oh I’d love to! Through my research, I’ve come to learn just how fascinating a god like her really is. Plus, I never trusted that king,” Monomon lied, careful not to agree to anything outright. Quirrel visibly reacted, overexcited.

“Then madam, I can’t wait to tell you about—”

“I refuse to play your games, Radiance. Drop your facade.” She peered into the eyes of her assistant. The walls suddenly dissolved into blinding light, leaving only the imposter. She could hear Quirrel’s voice chuckle behind his mask before he too exploded into glowing, orange essence.

Once she could see again, there was nothing but sunlight and soft clouds in every direction, even below her. With a mighty roar, the Radiance spread her massive wings, looking down upon Monomon. 

“So you’ve figured out who I am? No matter; you are still no match for my power. You should know better than most that I am not to be trifled with.” After recovering from the shock of gazing upon a higher being, Monomon, accustomed to levitation, rose to meet her gaze. 

“While it required a truly hollow being to trap you indefinitely, you can’t ensnare a mind unless it is given willingly, correct?” Monomon queried, “Mine is, dare I say, one of my most prized possessions, so I wonder what you could possibly offer in return?” 

“I am the true god of this kingdom and rein over the realm of dreams in which you reside.”

After the Radiance finished speaking, Monomon paused. Her imagined mask remained pointed towards the moth, but her mind was elsewhere. She remained still, tentacles lightly dangling in the open air, until she reached a conclusion.

“No,” she asserted, “You have no power over me; you can promise me nothing.”

“I can promise you your wildest dreams and more,” the Radiance retorted. 

“You could promise me the sweetest dreams for the rest of eternity, but that is something I can easily procure independently,” Monomon explained, “Conversely, if you threatened to torment me with nightma—not technically—terrible dreams until my will broke, those are simply illusions that can do no true harm.”

The Radiance had puffed out her fluff, but still hovered in front of her, searing but attentive. “You can offer me no worldly possessions; they are no use to me here. On a related point, you could not even threaten harm to the people I care about most for my compliance. You would be unable to prove you hadn’t caused them harm in any case.”

“Protections have been placed over both my mind and body, so you are unable to threaten even my own life.” Static tingled at the ends of Monomon’s tentacles. Her demeanor remained calm, but her voice raised slightly as she stated her conclusion: “I am open to questions, but I believe I have stated my argument both thoroughly and clearly,” she contended, “Good or ill, you can offer me nothing of any value.”

The Radiance paused, staring blankly. Perfect. But soon, she snapped back to reality, and she was furious; seemingly because Monomon was right. Monomon chuckled to herself before realizing this wasn’t an optimal situation. 

The world grew brighter. The shining beams easily penetrated her translucent body and she struggled to keep them from doing the same to her mind. The light intensified until there was nothing else. Even if this truly was the end of her, there was still someone who could fix this, there was still hope. She called out with her last shred of consciousness, wishing, knowing he would hear.

“Quirrel!”

\- - - - -

In an instant, the bright essence was replaced by the soft glow of acid. It seemed the practically impossible had happened, but Monomon double-checked her surroundings before jumping to a conclusion. The essence and whispers had disappeared. Everything was right where she had left it, with the important exception of a visible layer of dust blanketing each surface. 

She slowly lifted a tentacle up to what most would wrongly call her head. She felt her squishy body and the flowing silk of her corrosion-resistant cloak, but the smooth mask that had always adorned it was nowhere to be found. It was no surprise her mask had appeared in her dream; to her, it had always been her true face because she had never possessed one of her own. 

Once she confirmed that she had awoken, she planned how she would overcome her first obstacle to discovering the fate of Hallownest: the giant glass tube she was currently occupying. While there was a hatch at the top, so that Quirrel could discreetly take her mask after the spell was complete, it was meant for his convenience alone, and was therefore locked from the outside. She pressed against it with as much force as she could with her long-unused tentacles, but it did not give. 

Her tentacles wandered over the lid, searching for alternate solutions. She noticed a ventilation pipe that had been installed to allow airflow without promoting evaporation of the acid within. It would definitely be a tight fit, but since she had no hard outer shell, unlike most inhabitants of Hallownest, it could be possible without her mask.

After snaking a tentacle into the tube to make sure the pipe did lead outside and stayed large enough, she concocted a plan. She pushed her cloak through first — both as a final test and to decrease the bulk of when she went in herself. After orienting herself in the tube top-first, she hooked her four tentacles over the end of the pipe and began hoisting herself through. Despite her preparations, it was still a tedious ordeal that was a test of both strength and patience. Eventually, she made her way through. All of her already limited strength had been used, causing her to unceremoniously plop on the floor.

The air was moist and still, but it still slightly nipped at her body after so long without it. She gently rose off the ground. Her impact had left a sizable puddle of acid on the previously undisturbed floor. After she was once again wearing her cloak, she lifted herself up in an attempt to right herself. Droplets of acid fell down her tentacles and sizzled away more spots of the dust that blanketed the floor. She occasionally wobbled, and the tips of her tentacles grazed the floor, but she mustered enough strength to gently float out of the room. 

The labyrinth of hallways, thin-railinged walkways, and the bright acid from the lake below would make most reevaluate continuing, and rightly so, but to Monomon, these winding halls were home, and the acid was a comfort missed all too soon. She was already contemplating her approaching journey: where she would go and what she would need, but first, there was someone she needed to tell about her awakening.

She fiddled with the door levers, making sure the entrances wouldn’t close unless she switched them back herself, before bowing through one of the aforementioned doorways. Once she entered, something aggressive stirred in the acid below, but she knew they only did this for her own protection.

“I know you were given a duty to dispatch intruders, but I assure you that it is only me,” Monomon reassured, voice filled with her signature calm sweetness. The thrashing stopped, but their ascent continued until their top curiously poked out of the acid pool. Monomon giggled before speaking again: “Oh Uumuu, I know these are unprecedented circumstances, but I’m just glad I get to see you again.” Monomon affectionately draped a tentacle over their half-submerged, transparent body. “I’m afraid I will be leaving soon, but don’t worry: I’ll make sure to come back. I just wanted to let you know that while I am proud of your dedication, you are now free to go wherever you like.” Just before she left through the other doorway, she looked back and saw Uumuu contentedly floating off into the Archives.

Supplies: that was her next goal. She had no trouble finding the room where all of the Archive’s travel supplies were kept; it was ingrained in her mind like every other. While she rarely used its contents, she had gone there many times to bid Quirrel or one of her students farewell before they left to do field research on Hallownest’s many wonders. Still, though she rarely left herself, she had everything she could possibly need.

One tentacle studied one of the many maps and planned her route while the others glossed over the shelves. Her cloak had easily fallen down to her waist without her mask there to support it. She resigned, adjusting it to hang comfortably around her waist; it would no doubt continue to fall once she filled its many pockets.

Another tentacle focused on her personal shelf, grabbing some snacks. It also grabbed her canteen and filled it with the Archive's now stale, but still drinkable water. She reached in one last time as an afterthought to grab a wide funnel so she could refill her canteen using the capital’s constant drizzle.

Still another tentacle fiddled with a combination lock on one of the higher, yet still quite low, cabinets, until the once locked door creaked open. It took one of the premade parcels of emergency pocket change as well as the Archive’s tram pass, granted by the king. Hallownest’s tramways, while mostly functional, were still being worked on when she became a seal; she wondered what had become of them since.

She finished packing and floated up to the Archive’s conveniently close main entrance. When she looked out, the canyon was as vibrant as she remembered. She watched as a cluster of uomas peacefully drifted through the humid air. For a moment, she left the doorway to simply feel the light breeze that carried them. It was time for her to go out into the world she thought she would never return to.


	2. To Remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lurien *totally* doesn't wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a bit of context. All the Dreamers woke up at the same time. I just couldn't find a good way to put it into the story because only the Radiance would know. The story is also set a year-ish? (stasis) or two before the the game, when the infection had just started to spread. (mostly so certain people aren't infected/dead)
> 
> In my stories/AUs, Lurien's butler is named Maura and uses she/her pronouns.
> 
> For future reference, I will try to update on Wednesdays.

Lurien had taken the Dreamers’ oath at his king’s request. He did not know how much time had passed, but it didn’t matter; he would hold onto his promise unto eternity. He was still, and his eye remained closed. It didn’t matter if he was already asleep; he refused to dream.

He had begun seeing light from behind his eyelid and incessant whispers tugged at the edges of his mind, but his duty held. In his previous duties, he had watched over the Capital and each one of its inhabitants, and though his eye now remained closed, the lives of every bug in Hallownest now rested on his shoulders. He would not fail them.

Even behind his mask the light blinded him, and he could feel the sickly sweet promises dripping down his face, but he instead focused on distant memories of the pale glow of his king, the one to whom he had made a vow he would keep above all else. But still, whispers became shouts, tearing through his sleeping mind.

“No.” Lurien’s voice was light but certain. His silence had broken, but his will was anything but. 

“I can grant your every wish, you need only give in.” A singular voice beckoned him, but he knew deep down it was not to be trusted.

“My only wish is to fulfill my duty,” he responded.

“There must be someone you care about, one you wish to please.”

“Only my king,” Lurien answered, “if you are no friend of his, you are no friend of mine either.”

A roar punctuated the air, and he was… floating? He had opened his eye in reflex and could see the Radiance blazing upon him in all of her false glory.

“You trust that Wyrm? Pathetic,” she retorted, “He’s done nothing more than steal my glories.”

“My loyalty to Hallownest will never waver, least of all for the likes of you.” His once quiet voice now rang with passion. “The seals must remain. That is my final answer.”

The Radiance wasn’t taking no for an answer. She only pressed harder against his mind and grew brighter until his eye had to close once more. She may be stubborn, but he was even more so. The only one he would bow down to was his king, a light he would fight for until the very end.

\- - - - -

Suddenly, there was nothing but the familiar tapping of rain against tower windows. His duty was not forgotten. He would not let something as simple as familiarity trick him into letting his guard down to the Radiance. He would not let his loyalty waver. Still, he focused on the sound and let himself drift in the peaceful white noise; it was only to pull himself deeper into his eternal rest.

A while later, a different familiar tapping echoed across the room: the footsteps of his diligent butler. When he agreed to become a Dreamer, his first thought was to let his staff go with the exception of his six Watcher Knights to guard over his resting body, but she convinced him to let her stay. Even though there would be no guests to wait on, his knights and the spire itself would still require care, something she had always given. She would be the one to watch over it all once his eye had finally closed.

Her steps were light and hurried, as were her words. 

“I never did get why you lit your chambers with those finicky candles. It was one of the few odd jobs you did yourself so I paid it no mind, but now, oh, they’re harder to please than you were! It makes me grateful you never left me to work for someone more demanding. Each time, I ask myself why I don’t just get some lumaflys, but I know I’m just too sentimental; it’s what you would’ve wanted. That’s why you kept me around, right?”

He remembered that, back in her days of service, nervous mumbling often preceded her, but it usually was about the frequent guests or the numerous others she previously directed. It seemed her words were directed at him despite the fact he would be unable to hear. Some part of him desperately wanted to reach out to her and tell her that every one of her small kindnesses, even after he entered his sleep, was appreciated.

But, he had taken an oath of the highest importance. He would not fall for the Radiance’s tricks. He would not let down his beloved king. He would not let down Hallownest. His eye would remain closed, his body still, and his eye sleeping. The seals would remain.


	3. The Hunters’ Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spider mom! Spider mom!  
> Herrah wakes up to a changed world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To keep the rating down and add to the world building, but mostly because I'm too baby to actually curse, I ended up making up Herrah's more... colorful language. I hope you enjoy it, along with the side character names.

Herrah was tired. She was tired of blocking out the meaningless chattering of false voices; she was tired of the grating whispers that seemed to echo from within her own head. The voices in her head had been getting increasingly loud and bothersome in recent times, and she was done.

“Shut up!” she yelled; she didn’t care who heard. Still, they persisted, daring to ignore her.

“You seem desperate; don’t worry, I can fix that.” These strange voices were awfully sure of themselves for having yet to reveal absolutely anything.

“Stop gruzzing around in my head and face me you aspid!” Herrah waited a moment before calling out again. “What, scared?”

A marginally intimidating roar pierced through the newly appeared sky. Maybe they weren’t as much of a wimp as she previously thought. She probably couldn’t just scare them off, but while she didn’t really wish to deal with anyone at the moment, this way would probably be more fun anyways.

“I am the Radiance, god of this realm! Kneel before me!” shouted the Radiance.

“No,” stated Herrah, standing even straighter than before, “I’m the queen of Deepnest, you should be the one kneeling.”

“So you’re siding with that self-proclaimed king of Hallownest?” asked the Radiance, “Pathetic.”

“He can go eat dirt like the worm he is,” corrected Herrah, “But, this is my kingdom, this is between you and me.” 

“Tell me, what is it that you most desire? You can have it if you only give in.” The Radiance gave her a smug glare.

“What I desire most is for you to get your fluffy butt out of my brain, so I can finally rest without listening to your ungodly whining,” Herrah ranted, “I was promised eternal sleep, not eternal whatever this rot is.” The Radiance paused.

“No,” the Radiance remarked, “Something else…” the Radiance trailed off in thought, and Herrah did the same. What could the Radiance think she wanted? As soon as Herrah realized, the Radiance continued speaking. “You want her, don’t you?” she suggested, “You never did have much time before you let that Wyrm take her away from you.” Tears dared to blur the edges of Herrah’s vision. Her only child was gone. “So? Have you changed your mind?” Maybe… Herrah stopped.

“No, I stand by my decision,” Herrah declared, “And so you know, I stand by all my other choices as well.”

“Why?” asked the Radiance, “Why deny yourself your one true wish?”

“I know if I let you convince me, you’ll just use that to enslave the minds of more innocent bugs,” wept Herrah, “And that just isn’t right.” The bright shape that was once the Radiance danced across her vision, blurred by both the growing light and the tears threatening to roll down her face. “Wherever you are Hornet, sweetie,” Herrah whispered, “I just hope you’re doing alright.”

\- - - - -

Herrah opened her wet eyes, grateful she had awoken from whatever twisted nonsense had just conspired. She attempted to lift herself from where she lay, but the unreasonable stiffness in her limbs caused her to awkwardly tumble onto the floor below. Once her field of vision encompassed more than the floor, she realized she was simply within her own den. Despite her drowsiness, she went through the motions of her morning routine, preparing herself for the busy day ahead. Uncertainties pulled at the edges of her mind, but she chalked them up to her odd dreams; she was too tired to deal with those types of thoughts anyway.

As Herrah walked out into the village she noticed someone; he seemed familiar, but she just couldn’t recognize him. While she wasn’t one to shy away from asserting her authority, she didn’t avoid interacting with her people either.

“How is the village on this fine day?” While casual, she still spoke with poise while she acted as queen.

“Y-your majesty,” the villager gazed upon her with a strange awe, “We have yet to find the exact reason for the predators’ newfound strength and aggression, but we are still holding them off without too much difficulty.”

“For how long has this been going on?” she asked.

“No one knows exactly when the dirtcarvers started acting strange, but it’s been at least since we last harvested the glowing mushrooms, and it’s gotten progressively worse,” he replied.

“I’m surprised I haven’t been told about this. I need to go discuss this with the hunters immediately. Thank you for letting me know.”

As Herrah left the main village, something felt off, but her first priority was her people’s safety. She approached the hunters and got their attention.

“I need to speak to Tilka,” she announced. The group chattered amongst themselves before replying.

“I’m sorry, but Tilka is no longer the leader of the hunters. I can take you to the new one, Octavia,” answered one of the young weavers.

“That would be wonderful; please do,” spoke Herrah as she turned to follow.

When the group’s leader turned around, she gasped

“Y-your majesty!” She was another vaguely familiar voice filled with uncharacteristic shock.

“Mysterious new people, mysterious new threats, and even mysterious new leadership changes,” Herrah muttered to herself, “Am I still trapped in my chaotic dreams?” She sighed before looking back up.

“That…actually explains a lot,” Octavia said. Herrah hadn’t expected any answer to her sarcasm, but she really hadn’t expected that one. “It would have been nice to see you, but I should have known this was all a dream. I guess I just missed you after so long…” Octavia mournfully rambled on until Herrah snapped her out of it.

“I was only kidding,” Herrah laughed, “I just had a weird dream last night,” She paused to remember the topic at hand. “I heard the dirtcarvers and other creatures have been acting up for a good long while, yet I had not been made aware of this. Care to explain?”

“The passage of time has been more of a mystery than usual. Even before our limited communication with the outside world stopped completely, there was talk of the stopping of time itself…” Octavia explained. Herrah then restated her query in a more concise manner.

“First of all, is everybody safe?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, so what’s happening with the dirtcarvers?” 

“It’s most noticeable in the dirtcarvers, but the other predators are also different. They are not only stronger, but also seem more… organized. Before they only hunted the other animals and lashed out in self-defence, but now they seem to almost target us. When killed, their insides bleed orange; on some you can even see it from the outside,” she described, “Our only lead is some old letters talking about someone called ‘the Radiance.”

“That bluggsac,” muttered Herrah.

“What?” shouted the surprised Octavia.

“Nothing, just my dream,” Herrah replied. Octavia looked like she was about to speak, but Herrah spoke first. “Where’s Hornet?” she blurted. Her tone was sharp, but not accusatory towards anyone, except for maybe herself for not remembering her own child sooner.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know,” Octavia replied. Herrah was furious that her darling child had been somehow misplaced, but the somber honesty in Octavia’s voice made her hold back. “I don’t think anyone’s seen her since…” Octavia paused, “Well, since we’ve last seen you.”

“W-what do you mean?” Herrah stuttered out. Deep down, she knew something important had happened, but it was only a feeling, and one she couldn’t quite explain.

“You were making preparations and talking with the citizens of Hallownest until one day, you just disappeared.”

The memories rushed back. Herrah would give the world for Hornet, but now she remembered that she had. Agreeing to be a Dreamer had been a difficult choice, but she knew she’d do it all again; Hornet, her fierce princess, was worth it all. 

”The deal was that once I was unable to, that king of Hallownest would raise her, but who knows if he’s even still around?” Herrah explained, “What do we know about the world outside our kingdom’s borders?” 

“Hardly anything,” stated Octavia, “First those pesky construction workers just stopped working on that unfinished tram station. Next, the silk merchants stopped arriving. Trade was abruptly cut off, limiting access to needed resources, but my hunters have been working extra hard to keep everyone fed. It hasn’t been too hard, since those who used to tirelessly weave for trading have been free to help out other ways. Soon after trade faltered, all semblance of communication with the outside world ceased completely. The Mantises’ gates are still locked, and those who dare to walk up to them anyway say nothing has changed. With all these strange disruptions, everyone knows there’s something more to this; there’s just no way to know what.”

As Herrah returned to the village, she noticed a crowd had begun to gather. Discerning individual words was difficult, but it seemed word had gotten out of her return, and her people desired guidance. She collected her thoughts for a moment before stepping out to deliver her speech.

“Of course, making sure that everyone’s safe and happy remains my top priority. Still, extra measures should be taken to better understand these new circumstances, so we can better adapt to them long-term,” Herrah explained, ”We need to look into the predators’ new ferociousness. Ask around, and if you know or discover something, let us know; comb through old reports and make new ones. As for discovering what lies outside our borders, try to send letters via the stagways or otherwise make contact. I will speak with the Mantis Lords myself, leader to leader. I regret that circumstances have kept me away for so long, but now I won't rest until I can secure a stable future for all of us,” Herrah’s tone softened, “And my daughter is home safe.”


	4. The Wanderers of Hallownest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many bugs traverse Hallownest to seek or protect the wonders within; these individual journeys often intertwine in interesting ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have officially written for this story 50 days in a row!
> 
> Also we're now past the introductions of the main characters, and can move on to the bulk of the plot. POVs will begin switching between scenes and including a few side characters. Also I started writing in a question-answer format, where each chapter ends with a question that is answered in the beginning of the next. Chapter 3's question, for example, was "Where's Hornet?"
> 
> Everyone's comments and support mean so much to me. I hope you enjoy!

Quirrel trekked through the dense foliage. Small bugs with stabbing faces nimbly lunged at him, and round, slower-flying bugs spat their searing venom, but he dodged them, only resorting to his nail when necessary. At the end of a tunnel was a clearing. It was quiet and seemed safe, like a nice place to rest.

As soon as he had picked a place to settle down, he saw a red streak from the corner of his eye. He quickly turned around as his hand reflexively gripped his nail, only to see the girl who had challenged him at the cliffs that bordered Hallownest staring him down with her special nail pointed right at him.

“We meet again, simple bug,” she proclaimed, “Why do you continue on this path?” She still seemed suspicious of his motives, even after he had explained himself during their brief first confrontation.

“I only wish to see Hallownest’s wonders,” he assured.

“You lie again,” she countered, “something, someone, calls you.” 

“Who calls me?” Quirrel asked, genuinely curious, “You seem to know something I don’t.”

“You actually don’t know, do you?” she confusedly replied. 

“I’m afraid the wastelands have done away with my memories,” Quirrel explained, “I know I’ve been here before, but all that remains are flashes in my dreams.”

“Why do you go deeper still into this kingdom’s grave?” she snapped, having regained composure, “Why brave this desolate land on a stranger’s whim?”

“You tell me, you seem to have an answer,” Quirrel replied, “Plus, I could ask the same about you. You seem awfully young to be traveling through a place like this alone.”

“How it feels to lose someone, have you forgotten that too?” She spoke sternly, but sorrow peeked through her voice. “Your burden, your loss, you seem contently unaware of it, even as it sits right in front of your face.” Quirrel paused, connecting the dots, before reaching for the mask he had carried all this way. He took it off and examined its gleaming surface.

“You mean this?” he asked, “You mentioned it during our first meeting; you seemed surprised.” He paused again, searching his broken memories for answers. “I don’t quite remember whose it was or why I have it, only that I must protect it at all costs.”

”I’ve seen that face immortalized in statues throughout the kingdom, but you bear the original” she stated, “That mask left this kingdom, then returned, yet you do not know why you have brought it on such a journey.”

”When you approached me, I was simply about to take a rest,” Quirrel explained, “I know repose is quite rare around here, so feel free to join me.” The girl lowered her weapon and sat a nail’s length away, a stubborn acceptance. “My name is Quirrel; I don’t think I got yours,” he shared. She looked up from cleaning her blade and replied.

“Hornet”

“Nice to meet you, Hornet.”

\- - - - -

While Monomon had made sure to dip her tentacles in the Fungal Waste’s periodical acid pools, she had still used most of the water she brought, and the ubiquitous spores irritated the surface of her body. So, when she crossed the City of Tears’s threshold, she welcomed the hydrating rivulets that swept over her gelatinous form. 

The previously bustling streets were now empty, save for a few infected guards. She silently drifted through the dampened alleyways, trying to keep out of sight. She checked around corners and planned the path of least resistance. When she was noticed, she hid in tight spaces, fled around corners, or simply drifted out of reach. She had to shock one of the especially persistent sentries who had spotted her from above, but Monomon made sure to only use enough power to stun the guard, ensuring a seamless getaway. She did not want to cause unnecessary harm to those not at fault.

Soon, she reached the memorial in the town square, locking her gaze upon the likeness of the vessel she had sworn to protect, the Hollow Knight. She was certain by this point that the Radiance and her infection had seeped through the barriers, but now pondered what had become of the vessel that contained it.

She then looked between her own statue and her rippling reflection in one of the puddles that decorated the city’s pavement, raising a tentacle to the soft jelly where her mask once rested. She giggled at the numerous differences between the simplified rendition and her disheveled state. Her mask was long gone, and her drenched cloak now hung around her waist. The sculptor had left the rest out for the sake of symmetry, leaving Monomon staring at someone nothing like herself.

Finally, she turned her gaze upwards towards the towering spire, the first true destination on her long journey. The ornate windows seemed almost endless, the only evidence proving otherwise was the sophisticated telescope peeking over the highest ledge.

She finished her canteen before leaving it out with the funnel to collect the refreshing downpour, taking something akin to a deep breath before venturing out of the rain to begin her ascent.


	5. The Butler Didn't!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So who did? Read as Lemm and Herrah both hear stories from Hallownest's residents and attempt to uncover the kingdom's mysteries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the meeting with the Mantis Lords everyone's been waiting for! ...That I almost didn't even write! And Lemm is here too!

Lemm stood out in the constant drizzle. It soaked him through, but it was the only thing that filled the silence. He gazed up at the silent knight, deep in thought. Lemm had studied Hallownest’s many relics; he even had vague knowledge of the figures surrounding the main statue, but the Hollow Knight stood only here, stricken from all other records. Lemm’s ponderings were cut short when a woman rushed out of the neighboring tower.

“Help!” He had never seen the doors of the Watcher’s Spire open, which made sense since its owner was one of the Dreamers, but his thoughts quickly turned to the distressed noble’s frantic rambling. “...it was huge, and it had no face, and it took him!” Lemm didn’t usually pay attention to melodramatic gossip, but his endless curiosity drew him to the bug who had left the Watcher’s Spire.

“Slow down! And while you’re at it, start at the beginning,” Lemm insisted. Her voice stopped, but her relentless fidgeting only seemed to intensify. She took a deep breath before restarting her story.

“I was simply dusting up in Master Lurien’s room, when I heard the grinding of the elevator. I assumed it was his knights, but still walked over to check. They had never used it before, but who else could it be? Oh, but I was very, very wrong!” At this point, she started hyperventilating.

“Take your time…” he replied. There were few reasons he would muster the patient politeness to listen to a bug like her, but information about one of Hallownest’s renowned Dreamers was one of them. 

“When the elevator finally reached the top, I saw the most horrid creature! It was a glowing acid green and had long, slimy tentacles, and it had no face! All I could see was this clump of weird orbs in its head.” She let out a shiver.

“Did this ‘horrid creature’ you speak of show any signs of infection?” asked Lemm. Many who had fallen to the infection had become mutilated beyond recognition, but he had never heard of something quite like this. 

“No, there wasn’t any orange or even aggression. Once it floated out of the elevator, the high ceilings could hardly accommodate its gargantuan height and sprawling tentacles. Threads of light danced around its tentacles, seeming to burn the air itself. It hardly looked civilized, bar for what seemed a cloak that hung loosely over its form, but its voice sounded clear and intelligent.”

“The creature spoke?” He was shocked. “So what did this thing want?” Lemm’s thin veil of courtesy was starting to run out. He wanted to know what happened, then he wanted to get back to his quiet home, out of the chilling downpour.

“Alright! Alright!” the now-drenched noble continued, “I don’t remember all of the details, but I remember the creature explaining how protections had been put over the Dreamers’ physical bodies. The creature also explained a ‘secondary test.’ It explained how if you dropped a bug’s hand over their face it would only hit their face if they were actually asleep. Then… Then…” She nearly cried out, seemingly from reliving the memory.

“Calm down a bit first, but then what?” He was only willing to provide the minimal amount of emotional support required to get this story efficiently over with. That, however, turned out to be quite a bit.

“Then, it told me ‘If the tests prove negative, I promise to leave,” and started drifting towards where he layed. There was still a hope that the seal of binding would protect him, the promise would be kept, and the ordeal would be finally over. After all, this thing had gotten past all six of the trained, armed guards, and I was in no shape to fight!”

“What were the results?” Now he was invested.

“The creature reached into Master Lurien’s cloak, and grabbed his arm! By this point I was terrified; if the next part went wrong, I wasn’t sure what this thing would do. It lifted his arm up, making sure it was right over his mask, and dropped it, but surely enough, it fell to the side. ‘He’s awake, exactly what I hypothesized,’ concluded the creature. At this point I could do no more than step out of the way and watch.”

Lemm remained silent.

“It spoke directly to Master Lurien’s still form, ‘I have proven that you are conscious, and therefore capable of response. The seals have broken, leaving the combined power of the awakened Dreamers as Hallownest’s best chance at survival. You will accompany me on my journey, willingly or not. You have ten seconds to respond. Ten, nine, eight…” It began to count, looming over his visibly sleeping body. ‘...Three, two one.’ After it scooped him up into its many slimy tentacles, the creature was gone quickly as it had arrived. They were both just gone,” she trailed off, “Then I ran down and met you.” Lemm’s eyes widened at the abrupt ending.

“Sorry.” It was all he could choke out. The nameless woman turned to walk back to the tower and resumed her muttering.

“Oh Master, I should have done more! I swore to watch over you, but now you’re gone! I promise I’ll…” Her voice faded as the door shut behind her. Lemm decided it was time for him to also get somewhere dry.

\- - - - -

The trek to the Mantises’ border was long and dark as always, and the burrowers’ rumored viciousness was apparent in each one. Herrah kept her eyes wide for pouncing dirtcarvers, meeting them with her needle mid-air. At the end of her journey, she came across the large metal door that the Mantises had erected due to their truce with Hallownest that “the beasts are kept at bay.”

She lightly rapped a claw against the thick metal three times, just loud enough to be hopefully heard. Right as she had pulled her hand away, someone called from the other side.

“Halt beast!” shouted Gepet, the oldest of the four Mantis Lords. 

“I am aware of and respect the terms of your treaty with Hallownest, and I assure you I have no intent of crossing your borders,” calmly explained Herrah, “I only wish to speak with you peacefully, leader to leader.” A quiet moment passed before another spoke.

”We meet again, Queen of Beasts,” proclaimed Onwa, “State your business.”

“An infection has befallen the creatures that lurk in our tunnels, and all communications have been mysteriously cut off. You are Deepnest’s last connection to the outside world,” Herrah explained, “Would you be willing to share any knowledge with my people?”

“The Mushroom Clan has also fallen under this strange infection. They approach us with aggression despite logic. They are easily dealt with,” shared Gepet.

“Barely even a nuisance,” added Edde, the youngest of the three sisters.

“We have little knowledge beyond this, but it is very possible that more of Hallownest has succumbed to this infection,” Onwa suspected.

“I know relations are tense, but it is still nice to speak with you once more,” Herrah said kindly, “Is your brother, Stoggh, with you? I have yet to hear him speak.”

“Stoggh... became infected,” Onwa answered.

“You’re understating it,” corrected Edde, “He downright embraced it.”

“He let it spread through both our borders and population,” declared Gepet, “Banishment was the only option.”

“We believe he has also taken his child, Akja, with him,” added Onwa.

“She has been missing since his departure, despite her wishes to stay,” lamented Gepet “We agreed she could remain here since she had shown no signs of infection.”

“I understand why he would do such a thing, but she’s our niece too,” worried Edde, “I can only hope for her safety.”

“I understand your pain,” Herrah sighed, “My own child has been missing for some time.” Both parties went silent until Herrah changed the subject, hoping to not end their meeting on a sour note. “Has anything else important happened?”

“Two explorers recently had the misfortune of stumbling into our territory,” explained Onwa, “Still, they were luckier than most.”

“The taller one quickly recognised our intent to kill and notified their companion,” said Gepet, “The other intruder grabbed the first and made a quick escape, and we found no point in pursuing them after the two left our borders.”

“Witnesses say they flew without wings,” Edde relayed, “but we’re still checking the validity of that claim.”

“I am grateful for your information, and will report back to my village,” Herrah took her leave. “Stay well.”

“We always are.”


	6. Carrying the Weight of a Dreamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hornet and Quirrel deal with the emotional burden of loss, while Monomon carries a load of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for bullying Lurien in the comments; it gives me life.

Infected husks stalked almost every corner of this forsaken kingdom, and its capital was no exception. Guards’ lances and a lone needle zipped back and forth through the sky, as nimble fighters clashed nails on the ground. Hornet remained vigilant, navigating the twisting streets and scanning above for the infected.

The two reached a more open area, devoid of the usual husks found in the abandoned towers and dark alleyways. Still, a single bug with a long beard stood in what was previously the town square, gazing up at a statue.

“Face me, husk!” shouted Hornet, raising her needle, “Have you fallen to the infection like so many others?” The bug spun around and took a step back, wide-eyed. This earned her a disapproving look from Quirrel.

“We only wish to check whether you are friend or foe,” he insisted, “Other bugs still of sound mind are rare, and we prefer to avoid unnecessary conflict.”

“I assure you, I’m not infected or looking for any sort of trouble,” stammered the frightened bug, “I’m only out for a walk to clear my head.” Hornet lowered her needle, if only slightly, and Quirrel offered an apologetic smile.

“What is your name, friend?” asked Quirrel, “Any news?”

“My name’s Lemm, and nothing ever happens,” he responded by habit before pausing to think. “Actually, some noble raved to me about some ‘horrid creature’ with green, glowing tentacles that took Lurien the Watcher.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm by it,” blurted Quirrel. It was Hornet’s turn to be disapproving. Hornet understood that Quirrel occasionally experienced flashes of his previous memories, and she appreciated that he had regained some useful knowledge. Still, his timing couldn’t be worse.

“‘She stole a person!” whispered Hornet. 

“The creature’s description was probably embellished anyhow, if it even happened” grumbled Lemm, “What matters is the possible disappearance of one of Hallownest’s Dreamers. You do know about the Dreamers, right?”

“Yes, we both know about the Dreamers,” claimed Hornet. She wished for Quirrel to remain silent, but her prayers went unanswered.

“Actually, I’ve never heard of ‘the Dreamers’; care to explain?” Quirrel corrected, “I’m quite curious about this kingdom’s history.”

“Then you’re in luck; I’m probably the last historian in this wyrmforsaken kingdom!” proclaimed Lemm, “There were three Dreamers, Monomon the Teacher, Lurien the Watcher, and Herrah the Beast, who agreed to be put into eternal sleep in an attempt to stop the infection…” Oh, so those were the other two’s names, thought Hornet. 

Once Lemm directed Quirrel’s eyes towards the statue, Hornet locked her eyes and ears in the opposite direction. She had seen that statue too many times and knew the memories it brought were only tragic. Also, Quirrel, despite his amnesia, was quite good at retaining new information, so she trusted him to remember the important parts. She had lost herself in faint memories of her mother and the tapping of raindrops by the time Lemm finished his explanation.

“Urgh! Now all of us are drenched!” Lemm complained “I’ll be heading back to my shop. You two should run along as well, unless you fancy getting washed into the Waterways.”

“I do admit my shell has gotten quite wet out here,” affirmed Quirrel, tilting the mask he carried to help shield himself from the downpour down into Lemm’s view. It was a horrible idea, really. Hornet’s eyes watched as Lemm did a double-take, looked back at the statues, then trained his vision on an oblivious Quirrel. 

“Actually, you can come back to my shop with me!” chirped Lemm, his no-nonsense demeanor clashing with the excitement he now radiated. Hornet struggled to keep up with him on the short trek back to his shop, but at least they were all out of the rain. The three settled at a small table surrounded by looming relics that threatened to take over the small room.

“Thank you for the hospitality, Lemm!” said Quirrel . 

“It’s your mask, Quirrel,” snarked Hornet, “You should know better than to show it to some self-proclaimed historian.”

“I’m right here!” announced Lemm, “But yes, I do want to have a look at that mask.” Quirrel lifted the mask off of his face and held it out. Lemm, despite his excitement, used extreme care and took out a magnifying glass to examine its every detail.

“What intrigues you about that mask? My friend, Hornet seemed quite interested in it as well,” Quirrel questioned, “I have braved the lands outside this kingdom, possibly to protect it, but I lost my memories in the process. It would be nice to know why.” 

“Don't you see?” declared Lemm, looking up from the object he was intensely studying, “You carry the authentic mask of one of Hallownest’s three legendary Dreamers, Monomon the Teacher's, to be more specific.”

“It does look very much like the statue you showed me,” Quirrel admitted, “And the name carries a feeling of familiarity.” 

“I’m — sorry for your loss,” blurted Hornet. She covered her mouth, but the words had already come out. She looked away from the other two, pushing back her tears. “Grab that mask so we can leave,” she snapped, marching out the door. She sat down in the tower corridor, a few strides from the shop door.

“Are you okay?” asked Quirrel, concern leaking from his voice, “You seem upset.”

“I’m fine,” Hornet retorted. Of course she was fine. She had to be fine. In this world, the weak perish. Her only option was to remain strong.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” comforted Quirrel, sitting down beside her. “I may have forgotten most of my past, but I’ll never forget to show kindness towards my friends.” 

Hornet could only remember her mother showing such compassion towards her. The mother she couldn’t help but miss. She had accepted that no one alive was left to comfort her. Suddenly, it all spilled over.

“Don’t you get it?” Hornet wept. “She’s gone!”

“Who’s gone?” asked Quirrel, pausing to think, “Does this have something to do with the Dreamers?”

“My mother,” she whispered. “She's gone — forever.”

\- - - - -

Monomon once again snuck through and around the Capital’s towering architecture. She had made her way into the more affluent half of the City of Tears and now faced the reanimated corpses of the bourgeoisie. The new weight in her tentacles was handled with care, tucked behind the fabric of her cloak.

At last, she reached King’s Station, once one of the busiest places in the kingdom. More importantly, Kingdom’s Edge was on the other side of it; she just needed a way to get through. She searched the many platforms until she came across one that had fallen into disrepair. The tunnel was flooded and the walls contained many cracks, but one breach seemed promising.

She set Lurien on a drier portion of the platform, so she could zap the persistent vengeflies while he was a safe distance away. While it wasn’t necessarily comfortable, Monomon easily slid through the large crack. The challenge would be transporting a bug who was rather content with faking unconsciousness and, more importantly, required air to breathe.

Monomon re-analyzed the situation. She had to go through horizontally, and the hole was small enough that he would have to as well. The tunnel wasn’t completely flooded, leaving an air pocket at the top, but just barely. She picked him up again, making sure he was laying sideways in her tentacles. She dove into the murky water, making sure to keep Lurien’s sides above the surface without scraping his mask. 

Eventually, they reached the other side. Monomon wrung out her cloak as the two began to drip dry. She found herself in a rocky tunnel. It was devoid of the signature ash of Kingdom’s Edge, but according to her map, it was directly connected to the outside.

Incroppings of various sizes could be found along Kingdom’s Edge. They often became homes for territorial belflies who clung to their ceilings. Belflies lived throughout Hallownest, but were most common in Kingdom’s Edge and the Royal Waterways. Those seeking to research them preferred the former due to it being a more natural environment, as well as… other reasons. Though dangerous, belflies were once prime subjects for studying the once-mysterious infection’s explosive properties, something Monomon realized could be a serious issue.

Sure enough, the three-horned faces of a few belflies peeked down from the ceiling. She was too big to sneak past, and moved too slowly to get out of the way if they decided to attack. Her electricity would undoubtedly trigger the explosions and had limited range, so it would only make the belflies explode the two Dreamers sooner. She decided to get creative and use the infected’s volatile nature to her advantage.

Monomon noticed a minute beam of light streaking onto the ground in front of her, then carefully removed her metal canteen from her cloak pocket. She stuck the reflective surface into the light, reflecting a small dot into a belfly’s view. It shrieked and exposed its volatile underside, painting the tunnel slightly orange. Monomon quickly moved the spot towards another belfly’s hiding place, causing the first belfly to explode the second.

After carrying Lurien through the rest of the now-cleared tunnel, Monomon could finally see it — the ash. Flakes tumbled within the gusting wind before settling into the landscape’s pale blanket. Many came here to test their prowess in the coliseum above, but her destination was far below.

Her intended destination and her ability to float made her trip less daunting than most, but a more vexing challenge lurked in these powdered cliffs—primal aspids. She had once been enamored simply by their continued existence, but that novelty soon faded. Now that she faced them in person, only dry annoyance remained.

After a long, arduous journey, they finally reached the bottom, Monomon peered into a pond of acid. It gently bubbled, beckoning her. She hadn’t rested since her departure from the archives and knew she needed her strength for the places ahead. However, acid was a comfort enjoyed by few, so she would have to devise other safety measures for her companion and supplies. The area was relatively unpopulated, mostly containing passive booflies, so something simple should suffice. 

The layer on the ground was not the snow that would occasionally fall on the surface, but rather had flaked off the nearby shell of a wyrm. The powdered remains of a larger creature wasn’t the most ideal place to rest, but it seemed soft and insulating enough.

Monomon created a divet in the ash, making sure to leave a loose layer. She gently lowered Lurien into it, along with her supplies, before covering him with a thin, powdery blanket. He would seem no more than a lump in the uneven layer to the unobservant, and even on closer inspection, was indistinguishable from the many half-buried husks that had fallen from above, save for his gentle breathing.

Next, she slipped into the small pool of acid, barely fitting below the surface. It had a chilling quality and was peppered with various debris, but the familiar emptiness reminded her of the place she had expected to sleep for eternity. She reevaluated whether she should simply continue her journey without rest, plagued by a now irrational fear that she would never wake up. 

But this time was different. There were no seals of binding, premature farewells, or difficult promises. There were no simple solutions, but still so much left she could do for this world. There was still hope for Hallownest, an ever-evolving Hallownest with the other Dreamers and her still in it. This time, she wouldn’t have to do it alone.


	7. "It Must Be Cast Away"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With so many conflicting voices, it can be hard to know who to trust, as well as whether to hold on or let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maura finally gets a POV scene! Also, school has officially started, so updates may slow down.

In a moment, everything could change. Maura remembered back when she was first hired as Lurien’s servant, having true stability for the first time in her life. Through her dedication, she had climbed the ranks. She earned the respect of those both ostensibly above and below her, and did so genuinely. Her responsibilities included organizing both bustling parties and the spire’s everyday maintenance. Her job was difficult, but in the end, she enjoyed it.

The next major adjustments happened when Lurien took the Dreamers’ oath. It was strange to see Lurien look up to anyone, even the king, the same way new staff naively looked up to her, staff who would inevitably be let go before his eternal slumber. She had learned that real loyalty couldn’t come from a class-based hierarchy, only mutual trust.

All too soon, the Dreamers’ duty came upon him. “Sleep beckons eternal and these words become my last,” read Lurien’s final journal entry, which Maura had read over and over. She no longer organized who would dust the spire or serve guests; only she remained and there were no more parties. All other staff was dismissed, except for his stoic and occupied Watcher Knights. The other nobles were shallowly dismissive until their demeanors changed for the worst. She had missed Lurien’s company when he still laid in front of her, and now he was gone.

Maura stared into the golden sky above her, a sign of hope in this dreary world. Something too soft to be smoke extended to a distant horizon where something glowed.

“Where am I?” she pondered, thinking she was again alone. The distant light grew brighter, until someone glorious appeared in front of her. Maura fondly remembered how Lurien would go on and on about His Majesty and the wonderment he induced, something she now began to understand.

“Welcome to my realm of dreams,” announced the being, “May all yours come true,” Maura gazed upwards, speechless; almost forgetting her recent traumas, but not quite. “Something seems to be bothering you, what do you need?”

“My best friend… he disappeared,” whimpered Maura, caught off guard, “I just want him back home.”

“My power is vast, and I will gladly use it to prevent such undeserved pain,” the Radiance declared, “You must only annou—”

“Wait!” called a voice, familiar despite Maura’s many years without it, Maura turned around, eyes widening.

“I-is it really you?” 

“I’m glad to see you too, but I need you to listen to me,” disclosed Lurien, “This god of dreams before you is none other than the Radiance I gave my life to contain and cannot be trusted. Do not agree to her false promises; she only desires to spread her vile infection within your mind.” Lurien took a deep breath. “I know this may be overwhelming, but I need you to trust me.”

”But what about you? Where are you?” asked Maura.

“I will be fine. I promise,” he reassured, “Please, simply do the same for me.”

“Silence!” called the Radiance, “Answer me.”

“I’m sorry,” Maura challenged, “But I’ll have to refuse your offer.”

“I thought your friend was in danger!” questioned the Radiance, “Who is that mortal to sway your decision?”

“Lurien is my friend!” asserted Maura, “And he doesn’t want your help!”

Suddenly, she awoke. Nothing had changed, but she was glad for that. Still, Lurien was missing and, despite his promises, she decided to search for him. She packed the few things she could into her errand bag, and wrote a note for the Watcher Knights.

She took the elevator down and walked past the training knights, making sure to pin her note somewhere visible before continuing her descent. She could only hope she would be able to honor her promise to return soon.

\- - - - -

Lurien’s dreams had been troubling lately. He had faced the Radiance twice, alongside many other recent peculiarities. He bolted upright to a world equally unfamiliar. He was covered in a white substance, laying uncomfortably close to a sizzling pool.

“Where am I?” he called out. Something stirred in the acid below, filling him with dread. A tentacle rose out of the pool, reaching onto the shore rather… lazily?

“Nice to hear that you’re finally acknowledging your consciousness,” said a smooth, yet weary voice as a towering, green form floated towards him, pausing to dig something out of the powder. The gelatinous being brushed off a cloak not unlike his own before putting it on. “We are currently in Kingdom's Edge. I hid you under some ash as a precaution.”

“What do you want from me?” demanded Lurien, still very confused.

“The combined power of all three Dreamers may be Hallownest’s best chance against the infection,” she explained, “ergo, you are required.”

“No, my duty will not be forgotten,” he emphasized, “Why should I trust you?”

“The seals have broken! The infection spreads again! You are awake!” she drilled, “You swore to protect this kingdom, so isn’t it your duty to keep fighting?” She paused, turning upwards; he followed her gaze.

Drops of orange streaked through the white above. The chilling wind slipped under his mask and cloak. It was too real. He had failed Hallownest. All that was left was attempting to mend his broken promise.

“I accept.”

“Then come.” She drifted further below.

“Why are we headed into this dark tunnel?” asked Lurien, cautiously following behind.

“We are headed towards Hallownest’s lower tram line,” she replied, reaching into her cloak, “My tram pass should work for both of us.” She moved slightly to the side and stuck a tentacle in front of him, urging him to do the same. This was seemingly to avoid a small, fluffy bee. “We are near the Hive’s borders. I am unsure whether they are infected or not, so it’s best to remain cautious.” The two moved efficiently through the dark space until they arrived at the abandoned tram station, where Lurien’s odd companion stuck her tram pass into a slot.

“Where are you taking me on this tram?” he asked. 

“To Deepnest, of course,” the creature said proudly, “We can travel there without anyone suspecting a thing!”

“I am not fraternizing with beasts,” he asserted, “It would be treason!"

“We are going there to ‘fraternize’ with a very specific ‘Beast’, Watcher,” she replied, “Actions your king was in no way above.” The tram rumbled into the station, screeched on its brakes, and flung open its door. She removed her pass from the slot and ducked inside. He followed, sitting in one of the many dusty seats. He didn’t yet trust her words, but at least they made sense.


	8. It's All Coming Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two pairs each induct a new member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've officially reached the 10k mark, as well as over 75 days of writing!  
> Thank you for all your support, it really means a lot to me.

“Look out!” Quirrel heeded the warning, barely dodging an infected guard’s greatnail. Hornet’s needle landed a lethal hit while the giant husk was mid-swing. Only an agile few still patrolled the skies, and were dealt with by Hornet’s needle easily enough. However, the infected shells of Hallownest’s high society had started to swarm around them. They lacked combat experience, but their numbers could still overpower the two fighters.

“Pick out the guards from above, I’ll focus on the rest!” shouted Quirrel, slashing into the crowd. The two fought in harmony, picking off infected husks until their numbers finally dwindled.

Just as Quirrel thought the last husk had fallen, something moved in the shadows. He had observed that infected nobles occasionally fled, but he remained wary. He gripped his nail, readying for a swing as the straggler stepped out into the light.

“Don’t hurt me! Please!” cried the bug. Noticing her eyes were devoid of the infection’s signature glint, Quirrel lowered his weapon and cautiously stepped forward. 

“Meeting another traveler is a welcome rarity, though seemingly not as uncommon as I once thought,” he reflected. “Still, it would be best to find somewhere safer before continuing our introductions.” He walked up to one of the city’s closest doorways, scoping it out before ushering his companions inside. “I’m Quirrel, who would you be?”

“Maura” she stuttered. “What happened back there?” 

“We were attacked by the infected,” stated Hornet, cleaning her needle off to the side. “At first, we thought you were one of them.”

“All those bugs said ‘yes’ to the Radiance?” Maura mused, “There were so many.” The Radiance. It was familiar, but a name Quirrel thought he’d never hear again. He spoke with a new sense of purpose.

“Yes, the Radiance, the one we are trying to stop.” She was the one behind all the chaos. Contain her, contain the plague.

“Who?” asked Hornet.

“The Radiance, the higher being causing the infection.” he said.

“Big, bright, fluffy,” added Maura, nodding along.

“You’re infected too!” accused Hornet, pointing her needle directly at the startled newcomer.

“I’m not! I swear!” denied Maura. “She tried, but I said no!”

“Fascinating,” mused Quirrel. The infection could be resisted, a sliver of hope. But, what about Maura made her able to? “How did you do it?”

“Master Lurien came and told me not to,” Maura explained. “He asked me to trust him, so I did.”

“Impossible,” snapped Hornet. “The Dreamers are asleep.”

“But I was asleep too!” Maura retorted. “Isn’t that what Dreamers do, dream?” It made sense to Quirrel, as well as opening up a whole range of possibilities. “He went missing recently, so I’m on a mission to find him.” So this was who told Lemm about Lurien’s disappearance.

“We’re searching for the Dreamers as well, so you’re welcome to travel with us,” said Quirrel as Hornet masked a sigh. “ Do you have a nail? It’s dangerous out here, especially without one.”

“I will join you,” Maura answered, “...and no, I don’t have a weapon.” It was a simple problem. One only had to look to the location of their previous skirmish. Quirrel darted outside, searching among the remnants. He found the shell of a flying guard still holding their nail, small but sharp. After a cautionary glance around, he grabbed it and returned to the others. 

\- - - - -

News had been spreading that someone from outside Deepnest had arrived at the tram station—the functioning one, of course—even though nobody had come on that tram for what seemed an age. While they were all wary of intruders, everyone wanted answers. Once reports came in that it was only two unarmed maybe-bugs, she decided getting both to Deepnest safely was the best course of action.

She told her people to not attack, but to simply watch and protect the travelers from the shadows if necessary. Soon, more witnesses’ accounts reached her. One was tall with a dim green glow, while the other remained covered by cloak and mask. They required little help because of the maskless wanderer’s ability to produce light. It was also overheard that the two wished to speak to Herrah herself, which was odd considering her supposed fame as a Dreamer in Hallownest. She would accept their questions as long as they answered her own.

“The travelers have reached the village, your Majesty,” reported one of Herrah’s devout, “What should be done?”

“Bring them to me.”

A few moments later, the devout returned, escorting the rumored two through Herrah’s door. A translucent being as tall as she was drifted in, followed by a violently shaking bug. 

“Please, sit,” Herrah motioned. The gelatinous being awkwardly smushed itself into a chair as the other cautiously lowered into a seated position.

“We have a proposition for you,” disclosed the one who wasn’t bug nor beast.

“You may ask in due time,” replied Herrah. “But first, I would like to ask some questions of my own.” She framed her desperate search for answers as an establishment of her power, something everyone with common sense knew to respect.

“Of course,” replied the tall creature. The other remained silent, cowering further.

“To begin, where is that mask from? It seems familiar,” asked Herrah.

“It was given to me by my king,” he beamed. So, it actually spoke.

“If you’re asking who crafted it, while I wouldn’t exactly know, I have reason to believe it would be the same craftsmen who made yours,” deduced the maskless one.

“Then it would be our mask maker in Deepnest,” concluded Herrah. “It wouldn’t surprise me; masks are our second largest export, right behind silk, of course.” The coward was noticeably taken aback by this, causing his companion to turn towards him.

“Your cloak was in all probability made here as well, so I advise keeping quiet.”

Herrah continued to ask questions as the more talkative traveller described their traversal of an infection-ravaged Hallownest.

“We have answered your questions,” she stated after finishing her account, “Please allow ours.”

“Very well,” replied Herrah.

“As you now know, the infection spreads again. However, the Dreamers were awakened and I have a hypothesis that their combined power may be able to stop the infection by other means.”

“Yes,” deadpanned Herrah, “I am awake.”

“We are asking for your help in clearing the infection from not only Hallownest’s borders, but also your own,” she explained.

“What’s in it for me?” Herrah queried. “Although I became a Dreamer, it wasn’t out of graciousness. I drive a hard bargain.”

“Your previous questions have made it clear you and your people are unable to leave, but I have found a way out of Deepnest. Anyone who wishes to, will be able to venture outside.” She pulled out her map and pointed to a spot on it. “If the archive’s mapping efforts are accurate, the rock here is thin; we may be able to break through.”

“I would like to see the results of your rock-breaking plan before making any commitments to unknown adventures.”


	9. Our Ascension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two groups must work together to figure out how to proceed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I found out there isn't a breakable wall between the Queen's Gardens and Deepnest, but I'm keeping it in here because why not?  
> I'm going to go write about Monomon being Alive and HappyTM. Bye!

Monomon had reached the vertical shaft where she knew the rock was thin. Now they only needed to figure out how to break through. It wouldn’t require the constant force needed to bore a tunnel, but it was still breaking rock.

“Would you have any equipment I could use?” asked Monomon.

“There was a second tram station being built when everyone vanished; I’m sure their stuff’s still lying around,” Herrah replied. She tried pushing open the tram’s entrance, but it didn’t budge. Monomon analyzed the construction, especially the giant hinges.

“The hinges are on this side of the cave wall, so it is clearly meant to open towards us,” deduced Monomon. “We just need something to help pry it open.” Herrah seemed to consider Monomon’s idea before giving an unimpressed look and pulling out her nail, ready to swing. 

“Let us not be hasty,” cautioned Monomon.

“The hinges are on this side of the door, so I’m breaking them.” Herrah’s reasoning was sound, for even the largest hinges would be weaker than the solid doors they held, as they required thinner, more intricate pieces to allow a smooth opening. Still, brute force wouldn’t be enough; more precision would be required. Monomon floated closer to evaluate further. 

“You just need to remove the end of the pin. If you slide out the pin, the hinge has nothing to hinge onto,” explained Monomon.

After a few strong swings each, Herrah broke the end of each pin, allowing them to come loose. Monomon watched as Herrah pulled a thread that she had wisely attached to the top hinge after she broke it. The unstable door teetered over and crashed into the tunnel.

Monomon drifted through the abandoned construction site on the lookout for excavation equipment. Tools were sparse, and most of them were focused on assembling the trams themselves instead of digging the tram system’s extensive tunnels. The best she could find were a bunch of pickaxes, which were likely not enough. Monomon returned and shared her findings.

“They are better than nothing, but even with one, breaking through would be unrealistic.” Monomon tapped a pickaxe onto the rock above, listening carefully to the echo. “There are several layers of rock above us, but these tools are mainly designed to excavate crystals near a cave’s surface, and even then it required many workers.”

“Then get a team,” replied Herrah, “I’m sure there are many who wish to open up to the outside world enough that they’d be happy to contribute.”

When the tapping of claws echoed from nearby, Monomon did not expect the trembling Lurien to approach it.

“Who are you? State your business,” called a voice.

“Why, I am simply assisting Her Majesty in her noble quest to break through to the outside,” Lurien nervously giggled. “She would be ever grateful for your assistance.”

“Prove it,” stated another. Lurien turned the corner with two shocked patrollers in tow.

“Yes, we are trying to break through, but with only us three, it will be difficult,” Herrah confirmed. “But if we work together, maybe we can finally break free and discover the truth.” 

“We will make quicker progress with more help, so telling others would also be beneficial,” chimed in Monomon. 

One grabbed a pickaxe, assisting Monomon as she worked at the rock above with as much force as her flimsy tentacles would allow. The other had left with Lurien in tow. Not long after, citizens began trickling in. It started with a few, but soon their numbers increased at an exponential rate. 

When Lurien returned, his fast, uneven breathing suggested he was on the verge of passing out; she was unsure whether it was fear or exhaustion, but she hypothesised it was a combination of both.

“What happened? Are you ok??” she worried, lending him a tentacle for support. She noticed a crowd behind him, ready to assist. Spiders covered the entire ceiling, digging away until a faint light finally shone through. The group widened the opening, even working from both sides once the smaller workers could squeeze through. Once the shaft was fully opened from both sides, the group paused, awaiting their queen’s directions.

“I’m thankful for all of your help. I’m now off to find the answers we all seek,” announced Herrah. “I trust you to continue without me as you did before, but this time with hope of my return.”

\- - - - -

“We need the Dream Nail,” Quirrel stated. He seemed quite out of it, once again lost in his brief glimpses of the past.

“We need a what?” Hornet questioned.

“It is why I must carry this mask.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Only with each Dreamer, their masks, and the Dream Nail combined can this be resolved.”

“I thought we were looking for Lurien,” reminded a voice as Hornet remembered the group’s new member.

“We will have to search for him eventually, but first, we must get the Dream Nail.”

“Nail? It seems dangerous,” worried Maura.

“Normally, one would need to protect against its power,” Quirrel explained. “But its power is now required in stopping the infection.”

“Get the ‘Dream Nail’, find Lurien, save Hallownest. Got it,” summarized Maura, missing an important detail: its location.

“Where is this ‘Dream Nail’?” questioned Hornet.

“I don’t exactly know, but it’s probably still in the possession of the Moth Tribe,” Quirrel disclosed.

“The Resting Grounds are probably our best bet then,” Hornet concluded. “I think I saw some of them around there once.”

“The ‘Resting Grounds’? What’s that place? It sounds familiar,” wondered Maura.

“Giant graveyard, ironically one of the safer places in this deadly place,” responded Hornet. She made a point of not going often. Still, it was a sanctuary from the dangerous crossroads and provided her some peace to mourn her mother. “Pretty sure it's right above us.”

“Really? So that’s where the elevator goes.”

“What elevator?”

“There’s a lot of elevators in the city, but above King’s Station, there’s a large elevator shaft that goes farther up than the rest. Personally, I’ve never gone. Nobody talked about it, to the point where I thought it was broken, but I guess that would make sense if they go there to mourn.”

“Can you show us where it is?” Quirrel asked.

“Of course. It’s this way.” Hornet followed, zipping from ledge to ledge with her needle until they found the elevator. Its ornate markings had begun to tarnish, but the mechanism hopefully still functioned.

Quirrel hit the lever, and with a mechanical groan, the doors closed, and the elevator began its slow ascent. Hornet peered through the metal bars, watching as the bottom faded to nothing.


	10. Lurien’s Loodle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dreamers begin hating each other a little less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10! Life happened and I was unable to upload last week, but I am gladly able to return to weekly updates of the disaster trio.

The Queen’s Gardens were lush with foliage. Small leaves in clumps of green and indigo blanketed every surface, and flowers larger than Lurien himself filled the area. Just one product of the Queen’s wonder and care.

“Oh wyrm,” slowly gasped Herrah, the foreign queen Lurien was reluctantly traveling with.

“Actually, while the Pale King was primarily responsible for their annexation, these gardens are the White Lady’s,” corrected his other questionable companion, failing to understand Hallownest’s most basic slang.

“That’s not what I meant,” Herrah commented.

“The Mosskin’s territory used to be much larger, but they now reside within the borders of what is now Greenpath, where they function as a semi-independent community.”

“You sure know a lot of Hallownest’s history. Maybe even too much,” commented Herrah.

The group pushed forwards, avoiding the thorny portions of the overgrowth and orange-tinted eyes of the mantises who had unlawfully controlled the area since the Radiance’s return. They continued their covert travels until the group had become visibly tired.

Herrah pushed aside a curtain of vines, finding somewhere just big enough for the three of them. She surveyed the dark space before ushering the others inside. The thick leaves barely let light trickle through, but they provided quiet security. 

“I heard some of the Mantises became infected and revolted, but I didn’t know they had chosen here as their new territory,” Herrah whispered. She settled into the space with noticeable difficulty. Lurien sat beside her; there weren’t many places to sit. “I doubt you’ve rested since you entered Deepnest; here will be safe.” The gelatinous creature contentedly melted into the remaining area. “Now’s probably a good time to eat. Did you pack any food for yourselves?”

“I did!” she beamed, reaching into her pocket, “...and I ate it.” She checked the rest of her pockets. “Consuming food is necessary for survival.”

“But now you don’t have any.” Herrah turned towards Lurien. “And I’m guessing you don’t have any either.” Herrah let out a long sigh. “I’ll share what I find, but remember that little spiders don’t whine.”

When Herrah returned, placed a mossy ball with some odd protrusions on the ground, and began making something, Lurien stifled a complaint.

“What is that?” he asked, “And what are you doing with your hands?”

“I’m not exactly sure what it is, but it looks edible,” Herrah responded. “I’m trying to—” Herrah rubbed the two objects together a few more times. “Start a fire so we don’t have to eat this bugger raw.”

“I believe that is a loodle; it should be fine. There are even domesticated varieties of loodles,” assured his talkative companion. “I believe the Fools still raise them to this day. They may be known for their combat, but the Fools are also exceptional at selective breeding.” Her next statement was lost on Lurien; he was more focused on Herrah rubbing rocks over her stick-sculpture. 

“What’s his problem?” asked Herrah. Rude.

“He’s lived a... sheltered life,” replied his kidnapper. “He probably has never had to cook in his life.” Fair, but still rude.

Once the fire had finally started and the loodle was cooked, Herrah portioned out the steaming mass. Lurien stiffly held his chunk at arm’s length. Clumps of charred fluff still clung to its tough, infection-blistered shell, but its insides looked remarkably juicy. Herrah had tilted her mask up slightly, devouring her own, and his other companion had shoved it who-knows-where, shell and all.

“Thank you, Herrah. Your cooking is wonderful.” The tall creature turned towards him. “I noticed you have yet to try your own. I highly recommend it. Plus, it is probably the best, if not only, thing you’ll get to eat for a good while.”

Lurien nudged his mask barely to the side, raised the foreign object slowly to his mouth, and took a cautious nibble.

“It’s…” He paused as it lingered in his mouth. The outside had a satisfying crunch to it, and the rest was as juicy as it looked with a hint of sweetness. “...actually not that bad.” Herrah flashed him a smug grin.

The three continued eating in friendly silence. It was like those quiet times Maura would pour a cup of tea for him to enjoy as he wrote his daily report of the city, and he insisted she take a break and have some tea herself. How was she? Eventually, the three finished; he felt better now that he had eaten.

“Let’s sleep,” wearily declared Herrah.

“Wonderful idea. I'm going to find some acid to rest in so I don’t dry out.” She started gently drifting outside. “You two stay here and watch over my cloak.” 

“Oh, she’s a fussy sleeper,” Herrah sighed. “Please tell me you aren’t one too.”

“Goodness no,” Lurien snickered. He laid down in the newly vacant spot, keeping a safe distance and his one eye towards her. “My bed was a stone plinth.”

“So was mine.”

“Huh.”

“Well, welcome to wilderness survival.” Herrah gently laughed to herself. “Goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight.”

\- - - - -

Just as Herrah felt tiredness finally claim her, she found herself somewhere almost like the Gardens, but not quite. She turned towards a sudden noise of rustling leaves.

“Herrah, you’re here too?” asked Lurien. “Keep your guard up; the Radiance is coming.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I’ve done this twice before. The Radiance is going to try to infect someone, and I doubt it’s either of us.” 

Herrah’s attention snapped to a soft sob in the distance. She ran through leafy passageways until she found the source, a young adult mantis sitting alone on a rock. Herrah stood behind her, ready to give comfort or space.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to agree, but my father says I have to.”

“Say yes to what?”

“The light. He keeps preaching about how wonderful the light is, but he just hasn’t been himself since he began following it,” whispered Akja. “He’s still my dad though. I just don’t know what to do.”

Lurien entered, breathing heavily as he brushed a thick vine away from his mask.

“You should always respect your father’s wishes,” he insisted. Lurien clearly misunderstood the situation. Herrah took a defensive stance, standing between him and Akja.

“Don’t speak to her that way. She’s old enough to make her own choice,” defended Herrah. “Plus, this dear girl’s father has fallen to the infection, and she has nowhere left to go.” At this, Akja wept harder than before. “Do you need a hug?” Akja quickly nodded before burying her face into Herrah’s cloak, staining it with her tears. Herrah gently embraced the young mantis, allowing it to happen. 

“I just want to be able to live my own life without everyone telling me what to do!” 

“There, there, dear,” Herrah consoled. “We’ll get you back home safe to your aunts, I promise.”

“But my father and his followers are under the infection’s influence! What if they hurt me?” she panicked. “A disgrace to my aunts, and now my father! You’re the only one I have left. I do hope I live to see you again, my beloved Ze’mer.”

“Ze’mer?” Lurien blurted.

“Yes, I have a girlfriend,” disclosed Akja, unamused.

“Your ‘girlfriend’ is one of Hallownest’s five Great Knights!” Lurien proclaimed, “...I might have a plan on how to get you out of here.”

“What is it?” asked Herrah.

“When Hallowest’s Queen travels, her knight, Dryya, always accompanies her,” he explained. “While Dryya would probably be wary of a traitor mantis, she would undoubtedly protect someone close to one of her fellow knights.”

“That would probably work,” Herrah agreed. “But you two should stick together, just to be safe. I’d go, but Lurien seems to possess ‘class’, something I lack within Hallownest’s borders.” The other two had a short discussion, probably on how they’d find each other, but soon the dream faded like any other.

When she opened her eyes, Herrah was alone. The fire had gone out and only the cloak they had promised to watch over remained. Herrah could only hope for Akja’s safety, but hope was a powerful thing.


	11. The “Uumuu”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Informing yourself is an important step in problem solving, and what better place to inform yourself than the Archives?

Lurien had heard about the wonders of the Teacher’s Archives, which was known to be both endorsed and funded by the Pale King himself. Its research helped transform the King’s plan to seal the infection into a reality.

It would be an honor to meet “the Teacher”. She had a reputation of being not only an accomplished scholar, but also a poet; her most famous poem was “Elegy for Hallownest,” which Lurien had memorized. Like him—and unlike Herrah—she had also dutifully made a Dreamer’s sacrifice. Once they had found her, the three would be united, and their eccentric leader’s objective would finally be complete.

Eventually, after carefully traversing past the volatile threats of the canyon’s misty passageways, the Archives stood in front of him in their awaited glory. The building was a massive circle and had been built over a lake of acid. It was topped with a brass dome and a small tower peeked through its center. A faint green glow emanated from its many tall windows. He stood in amazement, but when he finally turned his head, he noticed his associates were already ducking through the Archives’ elegant archway that was adorned with the symbol of Monomon’s mask.

“I am going to search for any information relevant to stopping the infection, and I highly encourage you two to do the same,” suggested the group’s tallest member, before drifting out into the endless shelves and corridors. The building seemed like the type of place easy to get lost in with its endless shelves, rooms, and corridors. He reluctantly chose to accompany Herrah so it wouldn’t become a reality.

“This is all gibberish,” Herrah muttered, turning a tube of acid she had picked off a shelf around in her claws. It didn’t surprise him that she couldn’t understand the writings of Hallownest’s most educated scholars.

“Let me try.” He grabbed the gently glowing tube and held it up to his mask. “Aba-ancient-six-o-fly-aim-em-tri-em-venom,” he read. He paused. He repeated the words with a new certainty in his voice: “Aba-ancient-six-o-fly-aim-em-tri-em-venom.” He echoed the words in his mind, searching for some hidden meaning. “I…” It shouldn’t be that difficult. He gave each word one last thought. “...have no idea what this means.”

“Well, this is clearly futile!” Herrah grabbed the tube back and put it back in its place. “Let’s go find Monomon,” she suggested with a grin. This was clearly a bad idea.

“No, we will not,” he spoke firmly. “She told us to search for information.”

“It’s a lost cause; we might as well make ourselves useful,” she replied. “If it’s Monomon she wants, it’ll be Monomon she gets.”

The two traveled under high ceilings and over wide pools of acid. Dust engulfed everything, from each winding cable, to the floor itself. Just as Lurien was about to step down through one of the Archives’ many ornate doorways, Herrah stuck an arm out in front of him.

“Wait! This door has a warning next to it!” She leaned down towards a large sign that seemed one of the few things not written in the Archives’s mysterious code. “‘Do not enter. Shock hazard: Uumuu.’ I have no idea what an ‘Uumuu’ is, but they’re probably dangerous. It’s best to remain cautious.” 

Herrah crossed the threshold with her needle raised; he followed closely behind. They made their way down through the room with slow care, but at no point did this “Uumuu” attack. Aside from the bubbling acid directly below them, the pair reached the exit with ease.

It led into a room filled with an even greater assortment of levers and other equipment than the rest of this epicenter of technology. 

“This one lever isn’t dusty. ‘Auto-lock’,” she read. “Who could have pressed it since the dust settled? Clearly, nobody has walked through in ages.”

“If we could exit without activating the lock, the Uumuu could as well. The Uumuu could be anywhere or strike at any moment!”

“It’s probably for the best; it’s a sad life to live in such a small room all alone. Still, you’re right; it’s probably a good idea to remain wary.” The two continued on their railed, brass path.

Everything seemed to lead to the tall room at the heart of the Archives. Many walkways dotted the walls, and a platform stood near the top of the room’s centerpiece, a large tank of acid suspended from the ceiling. The glass tube had an intricate lid with skilful engravings and various pipes and supports across its shining surface.

Despite its location and adornments, the tank contained only empty acid; no specimens or even words were stored at the Archives’ guarded center. 

“The Uumuu was clearly guarding this room,” he deduced, “but what in here is so important?”

“What makes you think the Uumuu was a guard, and not just some wacky experiment?”

“From the signage, to the automatic doors, it’s similar to any standard guard setup. It’s quite similar to what I did with my own Watcher Knights.”

“Be careful, that acid on the floor seems quite fresh.” Herrah pointed towards a puddle near the tank that gently sizzled away at the thick dust surrounding it. “The drops and smears around it seem like tracks of some sort, but they’re like nothing I’ve ever seen. Plus, nothing’s left in this forsaken library to make any.”

“Monomon! A Dreamer is definitely someone worth guarding,” realized Lurien. “Still, what happened to her, and where did she sleep?”

“She’s probably awake like we are.”

“And what’s that giant tank of acid for? It seems dangerous.”

“Maybe she slept in there.” Herrah grinned. “Hey, we happen to know someone who sleeps in acid.”

“No.”

“Our leader’s awfully concerned about the Dreamers. Maybe she’s one of them.”

“Didn’t you call her a ‘picky sleeper’? She clearly wasn’t a dreamer” challenged Lurien. “We both slept on stone plinths; Monomon must have as well.”

“It’s all hocus-pocus anyways; nobody can actually sleep forever, at least without a lot of help,” Herrah insisted. “Plus, where else would she sleep?”

“Our ‘leader’ looks nothing like the memorial fountain in town square. She is merely some undistinguished creature in search of honors beyond her reach. Where is her mask? She only seeks to shove herself into problems that don’t concern her.”

“Masks can—” Herrah yanked at her cloak “—be taken off.” She gazed unsettlingly down at him. All remaining pretences dangled limply in her claw. Each of her six eyes seemed to glare into his very soul. “It’s no surprise those pretentious sculptors would try to make us more ‘presentable’ in their thinly veiled propaganda. They’d do the same with Monomon.”

“O-okay,” he stuttered out. The concept of their strange companion being the esteemed Monomon was still unbelievable, but it would probably be best to let Herrah hold her beliefs, at least until other conflicting opinions presented themselves.

\- - - - -

There had to be something useful here. Monomon scanned a shelf in one of the Archives’ hidden rooms. Though it had the same blanket of dust as the rest of the abandoned facility, it had been the Archives’ most recent addition. What had once been a student's room had been hastily renovated to accommodate the torrent of classified research and reports surrounding the then-new vessel project, whose details were too horrific for the public’s, or even her own students’, eyes.

More importantly, this included her research on the Dreamers and the infection itself. Since both had strong links to dreams, she hypothesized the Dreamers could do more than simply seal its vessel away, but she didn’t quite know how. She would most likely have to speak with the others, analyze their masks, and run some tests, but these tubes could give her somewhere to begin.

People will act based on the information they are given, so the giving of information was best done with care. If people had known of the infection’s true nature, mass panic would have been even more prolific than it already was. If her companions knew her true identity, their perceptions would be clouded by her past, both in its achievements and its transgressions. She wished to be viewed by the truth of her current actions.

She stood back as far as she could between the tight shelves and scanned whatever words happened to face her. 

“Citizens have begun to awake from their long slumbers, but something seems wrong with their minds… Two hundred more vessels have been deemed impure… Orange, pulsating growths have started to appear on some of the affected citizens…”

Some things are better kept hidden. Still, knowledge was instrumental for solving any problem. The truth was a difficult burden to carry, but one she and her Archives had carried nevertheless. It was a scientist’s job to simply observe the results and objectively record them, no matter how soul-crushing. She only wished to not be judged by the atrocities she had witnessed.


	12. Questions Without Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dreamers discuss their course of action, and Uumuu gets pats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have reached 100 days of writing! Thank you for all of your support.

Their mysterious companion had to be Monomon; Herrah was certain. Lurien was too caught up in some perfect lie like always. Herrah turned towards the exit and slipped on her mask. 

“Stay close and quiet in case we happen upon Monomon or that Uumuu thing,” she whispered.

“How will we find anyone? Neither of us know this place.”

“Hunting and tracking is my specialty.”

There! A subtle voice laughed in the distance, hopefully Monomon’s.

“She’s this way,” Herrah whispered. “Now’s a good time to stop that incessant tapping of yours.”

“I have feet.”

“Don’t we all? But yours are quite loud, especially for someone your size.” Lurien looked irritated, but remained quiet. He had finally figured out what was best for him.

They snuck towards the sound, slowly getting closer. Once they had reached Monomon, they hid behind a shelf, out of sight of her and a large creature.

“These are observations from the Archives’ essence experimentation; it is quite interesting,” Monomon chirped. The two took a quick peek at the object of her affections. Monomon had draped a loving tentacle over the being’s transparent body while she used her other three to continue her search for the information hidden inside the tubes of acid. 

Lurien, knowing better than to speak aloud, gave Herrah a look that said that this creature was something only a mother could love. He had failed to realize that Herrah was, in fact, a mother, and had already begun loving them.

“Step away from that creature,” Lurien warned. “It could be the Uumuu. It was locked in a room, possibly as a guard, but has since escaped.”

“I assure you, I am fine,” reassured Monomon. “If a guard has willingly left their post, what reason do they have for aggression? Also, Uumuu is their name.”

Herrah stopped focusing on the back and forth between the two. Monomon’s defensiveness showed she cared deeply for Uumuu; it’s only natural to return compassion towards those who’ve protected you. Herrah was even more sure this was Monomon. She tuned back in after the argument slowly died down.

“I have been searching for information on the infection and the seals used to contain it in an attempt to understand why they broke and how we can fix our current situation,” Monomon began.

“It’s obviously your fault,” accused Lurien. “You tricked me into forgoing my duty.” Back at it again.

“As I explained previously, when I arrived at your spire, the seal was already broken, and you were conscious. This was the Radiance’s doing, not mine.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“The Radiance got annoyed with me too before I woke up, if that means anything,” added Herrah. Clearly, she knew because she was Monomon; she had lived it. Lurien was just willfully ignorant.

“I have reason to believe that the vessel itself may be the issue,” Monomon explained. “The Dreamers’ seals could not have been the issue. The Radiance must have had already escaped when the Dreamers woke, because she talked to the Dreamers beforehand and probably caused their awakening herself. This leaves the vessel, the final seal, as the only possible issue.” 

“Don’t talk about the Hollow Knight like that!” challenged Herrah. “They’ve sacrificed more than even we have.”

Herrah wasn’t one to pry into foreign affairs, but she still remembered what Hornet had said when she returned from her first visit to the palace. The young girl was beaming as she rambled on about how big and shiny all the rooms were, and all the people that were there, and how there were way too many rules, but it was still fun. What she talked the most about though, was this one bug that was tall and really quiet but was still super cool and nice. 

What truly shocked Herrah, was when Hornet called this bug her sibling. When Herrah first wrote to the Pale King about this mystery bug, she hadn’t thought much of it. It wouldn’t have surprised her if he and the White Lady had some children of their own. The letter she got back was serious, saying that its contents were confidential, and that if it wasn’t for her Dreamer status, she wouldn’t even be hearing this. After all this, the letter informed her that who Hornet had found, despite his best efforts, was the Hollow Knight, and that the “vessel” that Herrah had agreed to help seal, was, in fact, her daughter’s half-sibling. How could one stoop so low as to sacrifice their own child? Still, a deal was a deal.

“What about it could have possibly gone wrong?” queried Lurien, drawing Herrah back to the topic at hand.

“That would require further research,” Monomon disclosed.

“Who will you ask about such things, the Pale King himself?” he refuted.

“You’re right, I should consult the Pale King,” agreed Monomon. “He was actually quite the scientist, and he oversaw the Vessel Project. The theory behind it may have been researched and stored in the Archives, but the vessels’ actual creation was overseen by him.” Great. Him. This would be uncomfortable for a number of reasons.

“What authority do you have to ask the Pale King?” he challenged.

“Apparently you have some,” Herrah chimed in. “How about you go tell him that his plan failed?” 

“Ok, So Lurien’s going to help us talk to the Pale King!” Monomon over-cheerfully announced. Yep, definitely a teacher.

“Talking to him myself would be an honor. I am certain his Majesty can rectify this chaos,” Lurien declared.

“I found some information about something called ‘the Dream Nail’ that can harness the power of essence. It was believed to be the only thing capable of breaking a Dreamer’s seal, so most of the information was focused on that, but the infection’s power is also of essence, so that kind of power not against the Dreamers, but alongside them, may be enough to stop the Radiance,” explained Monomon. “Any questions?”

“Yes,” asked Herrah, jokingly raising her hand. “Can I pet Uumuu?” Her question was honest, despite her tone.

“You both may; just make sure to be careful.” Lurien, who was actually trying new things for once, reached out a hesitant hand, giving a slight shiver when it touched Uumuu’s clear surface. Sure, they were a little slimy, but it wasn’t that bad. When Uumuu happily bumped into Herrah, she let out a delighted laugh. Herrah stopped worrying about the difficult future ahead, and for this moment, simply allowed herself to enjoy it.

\- - - - -

Vines gently draped over the shining architecture. His hand gently brushed against the elegant railing before he pulled back, as if burnt by their swirling engravings. 

He was alone. He had loved to bring whoever was willing to enjoy his silent company, to gaze into the unknown, but they had since left. Only semblances of people remained, set dressing for this pristine unreality. By now, silvery brambles had claimed every nook and cranny as their own in the absence of the White Lady’s care, but they only carried whispers of company.

The view was still wondrous as ever. Pure white essence would periodically materialize before gently fading to nothing, adding flickers of interest to the already breathtaking view.

He leaned his weight onto the railing, letting the coolness seep through his cloak. It no longer mattered if he acted improper, no one was left to notice.


	13. The Dream Nail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where did it go?

“What do you mean you do not have it?” their disgruntled ambassador exclaimed. A conversation slightly muffled by the distance from Lurien’s spot on the ledge below. He sat in awkward silence as Herrah tried desperately not to squish him against the beautiful, but still quite cold, railing; at least there was no threat of tumbling off the rather high ledge. He tried to distract himself with its intricate metal swirls as much as one could when their mask knocked against it. It did not bear Hallownest’s seal like most ornate fences, but still had their high level of handicraft. Given the circumstances, he quickly tuned back into the conversation above.

“Where is it now?” Impatient sparks flickered off of the dangling tentacles too long to fit into the nook above.

“I gave it to a group of explorers who had come searching for it. They came only a short while ago, so I doubt they’ve gone far,” explained a voice from inside.

“Do you remember what they looked like?”

“Ah, those travelers... one of them had a brilliantly red shell. she was quite nervous if I remember correctly.” So, every bug ever. “Another was a young girl wearing a red cloak. She seemed to have lost her mother, the poor thing.” 

“Hornet?” gasped Herrah, a bit too loudly.

“Who said that?” asked the kind figure in shadow.

“...her mother, I would presume. Was there anyone else present?”

“Ah, there was this other bug with a mask and a nail.” Most of Hallownest’s citizens wore masks, and nails were probably common among explorers, especially in times like these. “He did most of the talking, probably a leader of sorts. He was the one who told me of their quest, but he kept mentioning someone he only referred to as ‘the Madam’.”

Even from his compromised position, Lurien could tell by the way the creature’s tentacles tensed that she had been rendered speechless. Eventually, her voice returned, stuttering.

“I am ‘the Madam’.”

“He seemed to be getting it for you anyways, so I’m sure this is simply a misunderstanding. At this point, he’s probably still close by.”

The odd creature returned to the group and repeated that they would have to be quick.

“However, they are armed, so we should be careful about how we reveal ourselves,” she explained. Once the three were back on the ground, they discussed their plan. There were so many ways it could go wrong, but it was the safest option they could come up with without wasting any more of their precious time. Lurien reluctantly set off, ready to put this risky plan into motion.

\- - - - -

They had gotten ahold of the Dream Nail, and could finally search for Lurien. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Quirrel remarked, analyzing the Dream Nail’s intricate symmetries. Maura peered in closer. It bore no blade, only a circular design much like those that dangled from the cavern ceiling. Was it a compass of sorts that would point them in the Dreamers’ direction? Probably not, but then what did it do?

“It is quite beautiful, but it looks nothing like a nail,” she noted.

“Please step back. I’m going to try swinging it.” When Quirrel drew the Dream Nail back, light began flowing out of it. The glow culminated into a blazing streak as he firmly swung, and an ethereal blade emerged, as if freed from its ornate prison. Even Hornet seemed enamored by the light show.

”Whoa! What does it do? Does it glow when you point it in a Dreamer’s direction?” guessed Maura.

“Sadly, it won’t help us in locating the Dreamers, but we know the general location of two of them, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to find all three.” If it wouldn’t help them locate the Dreamers, why did they need to get it before looking for Lurien? Why did they need it at all?

“Then what is it even for?” asked Maura

“The seals,” he replied.

“You do know we’re going to kill them, right?” sighed Hornet, failing to hide her tears under her flat tone.

“What? No! The seals need to stay intact!” she dissented. Lurien had explained the importance of the seals to her, that they must remain at all costs. 

“Well, they clearly aren’t working now,” quipped Hornet. “They were supposed to keep the infection from getting out, but it got out anyways.”

“Since the infection has already escaped, the only things the seals are blocking now is us,” explained Quirrel. “Our best bet at stopping the infection’s escalation is facing its direct source, something that the seals prevent.”

“No,” asserted Maura, “I’m not letting yo—.” She gripped her new nail for only a second before dropping it. She was outnumbered and her companions were clearly more skilled in battle than she was. She would die, and it would be for nothing. Still, she would not go against Lurien’s wishes. Her weapon clattered to the ground as she turned away. “I’m not letting myself be a part of this.”

“I don’t wish to leave you alone. Even those skilled with a nail can be easily overwhelmed by the infected,” Quirrel pleaded. “I worry for your safety. We need to stick together.”

“No.”

“We need to push forward,” insisted Hornet, turning towards Quirrel. “She’ll be safe if she stays here, and if she has a death wish that isn’t my problem.”

Just as the two had begun walking away, Maura heard something. Footsteps? She was certain of the light, slow tapping from what felt like directly behind.

“Wait—we’re not alone.”


	14. Missing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost loved ones stripped apart by eternity are finally reunited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote a version of the first scene back in March. There were a lot of little differences, like Maura not joining Hornet and Quirrel until then and enemies existing in the Resting Grounds, but it had the same idea. It's kind of crazy to finally post this after thinking about it for so long. I hope you enjoy!

“Stay alert,” warned Hornet, clenching her needle. “I heard something too.” Quirrel followed suit, holding his weapon at the ready. He searched for the source, but found nothing.

“Remain close,” Quirrel cautioned. “If we stand together, we can cover all vantage points.” 

“Let’s go up there.” Hornet pointed up at a large stone platform. “Then we’ll have the high ground.” 

The group shifted onto it. Hornet stood to his left, helping him survey for danger below. Maura stood behind them and kept an eye on the towering monument to the Dreamers, quietly mumbling out the contents of the placard.

“...Through their devotion, Hallownest lasts eternal.” It went silent. The three held their breath, bracing for the enemy to make the first move. “Monster!”

Quirrel could only feel himself be swept off the ground. The familiar fabric of his hood had been yanked over his eyes. Something had coiled tightly around his body and legs, restricting his movement. Another one had grabbed his right arm, pulling it out in front of him.

He could hear Hornet desperately struggling nearby. Maura continued screaming.

“Everyone! Stop fighting! Please!” demanded a voice Quirrel had never heard before. Everything ceased, with the notable exception of Maura’s shrieking. “Please, don’t be afraid, Maura.”

“How do you know my name?” asked the frightened bug. Light footsteps tapped across the stone platform. Maura gasped. The group fell silent.

The grip around Quirrel had softened, but the ground remained out of reach. His hood had gradually grown damp, feeling cool against his shell. He could not remember exactly what, but something about the grip that lingered on his wrist was unforgettable, faint whispers of a time long past.

“M-madam?” he choked out, once again breaking the silence.

It was a useless hope that he had given up on long ago. Still, snippets of what once was flickered at the edge of his clouded memory, saying that this was too real to be anything else. When he came back to the present, he could feel his own tears soaking into the fabric. Maybe he had simply mistaken that sobbing wetness for something more.

“There is no reason for sorrow.”

The soft voice was instantly recognizable. No, it couldn’t really be her. He recalled little, but knew deep down she was gone forever. Was he dreaming? Had he succumbed to the infection’s cloying haze? Had he died? All he could do was cry harder.

“We are together. This reunion is a happy one.” His legs still limply dangled, but his legs and wrist were no longer trapped by coils. Something had lifted his hood, now futilely attempting to dry the tears from his blurry vision. He could only blink back in disbelief. “We are still trying to figure out why, but it really is me. Once this is all over, we can go back to the Archives and resume our research together.”

“I… would love that,” he chuckled. “I really missed you, Monomon.” 

“You’re actually Monomon?” gasped the mysterious voice who had demanded they stop fighting. Quirrel could feel a weight on his head being finally removed and once again put in its proper place. “Wow… you really are her.”

“Told you,” uttered another unknown voice.

“I’m certain my mom did,” Hornet chirped. Her mom? But that would mean… 

\- - - - -

Hornet had lost none of her snark in their years apart. Still, she had grown so much in all those years Herrah wished desperately to be a part of, but all of that change was for the better, and at least they could be together now. 

All kinds of emotions had begun filling the space. More than just her own, they poured forth from each member of the group that had gathered in front of the now obsolete memorial to the Dreamers. The pure joy of togetherness prevailed, but the tears of time spent apart still lingered. Residual trembling from the startling reunion had yet to completely fade. Lurien was lost in awestruck gawking at Monomon’s true identity.

She turned her attention towards Hornet’s companions. One currently occupied Lurien’s attention, engaging in cheerful conversation. As Herrah let her gaze wander, she locked eyes with the bug who had been carrying Monomon’s mask.

“Hello, I’m Quirrel. Who would you be?” Wasn’t it obvious? She turned towards her depiction then looked back at Quirrel. A short silence fell between them. “Herrah, I presume?”

“No,” she deadpanned before laughing kindly. “Yes, I’m Herrah. It’s nice to meet you, Quirrel.”


	15. To Witness Secrets Sealed…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysteries that lie at the bottom of Hallownest are best faced together.

Hornet was overjoyed that she could be with her mom again, but as always, remained wary of the others around her. Monomon seemed a bit distracted, but was otherwise tolerable. Her biggest concern was Lurien.

He didn’t seem dangerous; Hornet doubted he had held a nail in his life. She was untrusting of the way he talked about that father of hers, praising his “achievements” and ignoring his misdeeds, and oh, did Lurien talk. He hadn’t shut up about that king since they got on the elevator.

“Mom, why are we travelling with some…bootlicker?”

“That’s the type of person willing to sacrifice themselves without compensation,” her mom whispered back. “Plus, if someone has to talk to the king, it might as well be him.” 

Hornet sighed, but continued to silently peer between the rusted bars. This elevator was just as large as the elevator she had taken both to and from the resting ground, but far more rickety. With Monomon’s weight, the ancient chain may have snapped, but thankfully, Monomon gently hovered above, only occasionally swiping a slimy tentacle over Quirrel’s or her faces, though, for some reason, he didn’t seem to mind.

Finally, the elevator screeched to a halt, and its tarnished doors creaked open. An elated Lurien practically skipped out, followed by a tired, yet jittery, everyone else. The group tapped their way down into the shadows, speculating over the jewel that was rumored to shine at the bottom of Hallownest’s deepest darkness.

She navigated through the gloomy tunnels and crossed the echoing bridge. The rumors, as expected, were false…kind of. All that remained of the White Palace was a single crumbling archway in an enormous cavern.

“Look over there; what is that?” Quirrel wondered. A suit of cracked armor was splayed out on the ground. Black tendrils wound up to and across the platform, making their way into the form. Despite its ragged state, the body seemed to gently shimmer. “Something is emanating from it. Is that… essence? Maybe I should try using the Dream Nail on it.”

“We need to be cautious about this,” suggested Monomon. “While the blade will usually read the thoughts of whoever it is used on, dead or alive, something that is connected so strongly to dreams that it emanates essence should be treated with caution. There is a high probability that you will fall asleep and find yourself in a dream that is not your own. I trust you with your ability to survive and wield a nail, Quirrel, but while you are skilled in this world, I am the one more versed in the realm of dream. I should be the one to strike.”

“If this is dangerous, how about we just… don’t?” Lurien offered.

“I thought you wanted to meet with that ‘extraordinary’ king of yours that you wouldn’t stop blathering on about,” snarked Hornet, quickly growing tired of this exchange.

“Monomon and Lurien, we’re all equally dreamers, so I say we do it together,” Herrah suggested. “The other three can stand back and make sure nothing bad happens, and if we do end up somewhere dangerous, there’s safety in numbers.” In her time surviving in Hallownest, Hornet quickly learned the hunting tactics she had learned from her mom applied to a wide range of situations. This was clearly no exception.

“What order would we do it in?” Monomon asked.

“I was thinking we could all hold it and swing at the same time,” clarified Herrah.

“How would that… work?” Though Lurien avoided stating it directly, the clear issue was his height. To put it simply, he was short, and Monomon and her mom weren’t. But even Lurien was taller than that king…and her, but that was her father’s fault anyways.

“Monomon could hold you,” offered Herrah. Two slimy tentacles hoisted Lurien up before he had a chance to complain. 

“I assume you need this?” Quirrel asked, holding out the Dream Nail. Monomon’s other tentacles gently plucked it from his grasp. The three Dreamers grasped the hilt, drawing it back. Once again, the blade of light began flickering in and out of existence.

“One… two… three… swing!” A blinding flash filled the cavern for a single instant, until the space was once again consumed by darkness. The remaining three rushed towards the once-again sleeping Dreamers as they crumbled lifelessly to the floor. Hornet tried her best, but was still no match for the dead weight of her mom. Now, she simply lay there, peacefully. Hornet began to tremble.

“Everything will be okay,” reassured Quirrel as he held a metal container in his hands. “There is no seal. She will awake. I promise.”

\- - - - -

Monomon awoke, or more accurately, found herself, within a hidden dream. The White Palace stood before her in its imagined glory. How did this rendition differ from how it had truly appeared in its prime? Would this be an accurate recreation of the place she had never gone, or would it be warped by the mind that created it? Bright light emanated from above and essence drifted through the air, but this was not the Radiance’s glow.

Two heavy thumps echoed across the ground.

“Stand back!” warned Herrah, drawing her needle. The suit of armor that had silently stood by the palace entrance had snapped to life. It threw its claw-blade, but Herrah knocked it off course with her needle before it could strike them or curve back towards its wielder. “Who is that?”

“I believe that is a kingsmould, one of the Pale King’s constructs,” Monomon answered. She, the Pale King, and the Soul Master had often met to discuss their research. One time, before their meetings had been overshadowed by the urgency of the infection, the Pale King had called them, explaining that he had succeeded in harnessing the void. He revealed the surprise, a round, metallic shell that looked like a small bug. He called it a “wingmould” and explained how he planned to create “kingsmoulds” as guards for the palace. When he let go, its short wings began to flutter, causing it to hover in place. That familiar void resided within, but now it seemed to stare back. Monomon attempted to banish the thoughts of the curiosities behind those bright, lifeless eyes. 

The disarmed guard once again stood in its silent salute. The three entered.

To her knowledge, the original architectural style was intact. Tall windows checkered the walls, each adorned with the Hallownest seal. From the twirling rails to the arched ceilings, each inch was thoughtfully adorned. 

Still, there were some oddities. Most of the furniture was covered by white sheets, causing her to gently remove one and reveal an ornate yet otherwise unremarkable table. The area was also overgrown, and vines dripped down from the ceiling, but given the White Lady’s affinity for gardening, this could be closer to reality. 

However her oddest observation was auditory, a subtle yet constant drone that seemed to echo from all directions.


	16. …One Must Endure the Harshest Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guessed it: buzz saws.

The White Palace was more majestic than even the most opulent of Lurien’s dreams. Behind all this wonder, something, a noise, clung to the edges of his attention like the incessant buzzing of a lumifly that had escaped its lamp. The sound circled around his head but remained just out of reach. 

“What is that noise?” he finally asked.

“My thoughts exactly,” agreed Monomon. As they walked farther into the palace, the volume only increased, clearly audible through the fluttering of the King’s constructs. And the distant murmuring of… voices? Were they not alone? When the Dreamers walked out into an open area, his guess was confirmed. Dozens of brightly cloaked bugs dotted the various platforms, chattering amongst themselves. Lurien turned towards one of them, remembering to bow.

“We seek his Majesty. Would you know his whereabouts?” 

“Where are you, absent King? Please, come back. We need you. We promise to wait until your return…” The royal retainer’s volume had momentarily elevated, but once again settled into hushed rambling. 

“We require his guidance on important matters,” added Lurien.

“Guide us, King. Yours is the only light we will ever follow…”

“Do you have any reason to believe he has left the palace?” asked Monomon.

The bug’s voice remained faint.

“Is he still here, in the furthest reaches of the palace?” she asked.

“Why do you remain in your solitude above? Your people have been waiting for you endlessly…”

“We need to keep going upwards,” stated Monomon, turning towards the other two Dreamers. As they continued upwards, the noise grew ever louder.

“What is that horrible din?” shouted Lurien.

“It is probably the buzzsaws!” Monomon answered, waving a tentacle skyward.

“What?”

“The buzzsaws!”

“Why does a palace have buzzsaws?” yelled Herrah.

“We need to go upwards!” Monomon changed the subject. Herrah banged her needle against a wall, exacerbating the clamor. As if she knew it would happen, the wall crumbled before her weapon.

“No, he’s this way,” Herrah disagreed. If she somehow knew this place existed, it was as good a reason as any to follow her. At an edge with a drop-off into a sea of gleaming thorns stood a stone tablet.

“To witness secrets sealed, one must endure the harshest punishment,” he murmured. The words were ominous but promising. 

Still, the buzzsaws grated above, raucously as ever. His head hurt as the penetrating noise surged through his entire being. He could only imagine the pain of getting any closer, or what would happen if he accidentally touched the perfectly gleaming metal. Lurien failed to hold back a shudder. Even with the exciting prospect of speaking with his King, he knew what lay ahead would be anything but pleasant.

\- - - - -

”Seriously?” Herrah searched ahead. There was nothing but thorns. Up, the only other option, was littered with saws, and the fluttering of little metal bugs peeked through the noise from above.

“You are the one who suggested this path. Are you sure this is correct?” questioned Monomon. 

“He’s this way; I just know it,” Herrah confirmed.

“How are we even going to get up there?” asked Lurien.

“Monomon can obviously float.”

“I carried Lurien from his spire to Kingdom’s Edge, so I probably can again,” Monomon added.

“Don’t carry me.”

“You two can go on ahead,” resigned Herrah. Monomon may have been as tall as her, taller if you didn’t count horns, but Monomon was made of some sort of wispy jelly and Herrah wasn’t. Plus, Monomon already had a bug on her hands.

“We’re not leaving without you,” Monomon challenged.

“That King would just get mad if he saw me,” responded Herrah. Even as Herrah was laying down her life for the sake of his doomed kingdom, their relations had been tense. The rest of the time they were outright hostile.

“Without you, we are only Lurien and Monomon. If we want his Majesty to listen to us, we need to approach him together as the Dreamers,” Lurien declared.

“Even if you are right, you are our best chance at survival if we run into any more of those kingsmoulds,” explained Monomon. “Wait, did you know that weaversilk is actually one of the strongest materials in Hallownest?”

“I guess it’s pretty strong.” Herrah paused in thought. “That could actually work.”

“Now the question is where to attach it,” pondered Monomon. 

“How about up there?” Herrah pointed to a thorny but stable-looking ledge. “I can tie a knot, you just need to put it up there. The thorns might even keep it from slipping.”

“You could tie the other end to the tablet down here to avoid the thorns, but then that saw above might cut the thread.”

“Just throw some silk and stuff onto it. Most things stop moving after that.” Herrah offered a clump of sticky silk to Monomon.

Monomon held the clump in one tentacle and a longer thread in another. She clogged the saw, causing it to sputter to a halt, then she floated out of sight. Monomon returned to grab Lurien, turning towards Herrah.

“It is ready.”


	17. King Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lurien finally gets to talk to the Pale King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20,000 words! Thank you so much for your support.

“There’s something above us—I can hear it.” Maura could hear subtle scraping through the stone ceiling. “Something bad could happen to Lurien and the others while they’re still sleeping! What are we going to do?” 

“Look, if something comes our way, we’ll stab it,” snarled Hornet.

“One does not simply ‘stab’ a horde of enemies!” Anyone could swing a nail or pour a cup of tea, but when many must accomplish a common goal, organization is the only thing that keeps everything from falling apart. That was her job: delegating duties to prevent the spire from teetering over the brink of chaos. “We need a plan.”

“Good point. We should have a plan,” Quirrel agreed.

“Fair, but since when were you a military strategist?” questioned Hornet.

“I have absolutely no experience when it comes to combat, but I did organize quite a large team of staff at the height of my career as Lurien’s butler,” Maura explained. “ If something can go wrong, it absolutely will go wrong, so we need to prepare for everything. Firstly, you always need to go a step beyond greeting someone at the door, whether with kindness or a sharp nail.”

“We should set up some traps. Does anyone know how?” Quirrel asked.

“My mother taught me the art of trapping just as thoroughly as hunting,” claimed Hornet.

“The only way here is through that hole and across that bridge. I need you to make getting across it as hard as possible,” Maura ordered. “If anyone approaches, your job will be keeping watch, resetting the traps, and picking off anyone who manages to miss the traps.” She turned to Quirrel. “You can stand on this end of the bridge and slash at anyone who gets too close. The infected should filter through here nicely if they get past Hornet.”

Traps were laid and nails were cleaned. The tapping from above echoed louder. Something was close—too close. 

“Positions!”

\- - - - -

Herrah lowered herself down on a thin thread. From Monomon’s slimy clutches, Lurien could not see below. He could only watch where the silk was attached and pray that it wouldn’t loosen. As soon as the relief of hearing Herrah’s claws touch the ground rushed through him, she cried out.

“More knight things!” The clashing of metal echoed from below. “I can handle it; just make sure you’re safe up there.” The sharp clangs were soon replaced with heavy breathing. “Come down. It’s safe now.”

Lurien was slowly lowered down. The room was open, glittering with silver and white. Most importantly, it was solid ground. He took a deep breath, and the others followed suit.

Lurien stepped as quietly as he could through the short tunnel ahead. He had barely reached the end when he caught an unmistakable glimpse of His Majesty’s blinding glory. Feeling less confident, he slowly backed into the hall and went back to his group.

“Who is talking to His Majesty first?” he nervously whispered.

“You are,” quipped Herrah. “He’d be peeved to know I’d simply left Deepnest, but you’re on his good side, aren't you?”

“You are quite the sycophant, and right now that is what we need” added Monomon. Whatever a ‘sycophant’ was, Lurien was honored to be one. He walked back through the tunnel, still quiet, but with renewed confidence.

The Pale King, yet to notice Lurien, stared wistfully into the distance. His awe-inspiring glow was still bright as ever. Lurien held his breath, making sure to keep his steps quiet as Herrah had instructed. This pocket of dream was immune to the grinding metal that surrounded them. Lurien was hesitant to break the peaceful silence, but it had to be done.

“Greetings, Your Majesty.”

“Why do you seek me?” wondered the King, not turning around.

“The people need your guidance, my King, and I, as your loyal subject, have come to humbly request it.”

“What could the people need?”

“Things are… not going well.” The news had to be broken, and it was decided that Lurien could break it the most softly. Still, it pained him immensely to disappoint his monarch, and to such a degree. “It’s the infection.”

“Impossible. We have seals in place. Hallownest shall last eternal.” The Pale King’s gaze remained trained on the distance.

“Your Majesty, the seals,” Lurien braced himself, bowing deeply as possible in a desperate attempt to soften the blow. “They broke.”

He watched from the corner of his eye as Hallownest’s ruler slowly turned around and eventually settled his eyes on Lurien. The Pale King’s eyes widened at the sight of him.

“How are you here? You are supposed to be…”

“I never wanted this. I promise. I have pledged eternity to you, and I would do it a thousand times over.”

“How?”

“My best guess is the Radiance awakened me, but I cannot be certain.”

“Why have you come all this way?” He squinted at Lurien.

“The people of Hallownest need someone who can stop the infection,” Lurien pleaded. They need the person who had the knowledge and dedication required to seal it away. They need you.”

“If what you say is true, then my best efforts have failed, what use could I be to you? If my kingdom is in shambles and all of its people have died, then Hallownest has no need for my rule.” The Pale King let out a gentle sigh.

“Just as a kingdom’s people must be loyal to their monarch, a monarch must return that dedication and work towards their subjects’ best interest,” coaxed Lurien. “When you crowned yourself king and declared Hallownest would last eternal, you promised to be our ruler for all time.”

“I have always kept my leadership subtle, giving my subjects the power to think for themselves. This chance happening is no fault of mine.”

“Please, return with us. Your light is the only one that can truly guide us, the only light I will ever follow. You can undoubtedly face the Radiance and her foul infection, and end this once and for all. But, without its rightful ruler, Hallownest will be no more.”

“As I am sure you understand, years of planning, research, and preparation went into the infection’s sealing. We did not move forward with the plan until success was certain. Everything was perfect.” The monarch straightened his posture, attempting to look down at Lurien.

“While I admit that I am not an expert on the seals, I may know someone who is. Monomon conducted research instrumental for their creation, correct?”

“Yes, she contributed greatly.”

“Then I’m sure she would love to have a word with you.” Lurien turned back towards the hallway. It was Monomon’s turn to talk.


	18. Secretive Inventor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monomon tries to talk some sense into the Pale King as the infected creep ever closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: slight infection grossness, but nothing too bad
> 
> Due to a miscount, I didn't realize until recently that I have written for over 150 days in a row. Thank you for all of your support.

It started with a light skittering. Those tiny blobs of infection darted in and out between the rocks. Alone, they were no match for Hornet’s sticky traps and were practically harmless, but they began to slowly grow in number. The Lightseeds began travelling in groups, scrambling over those less fortunate in the process.

Quirrel’s blade made quick work of any who strayed too close, but the scraping and tapping above only increased in volume. signalling that this battle had only just begun. 

A few mawleks had made their way onto the bridge. Hornet could finish them off from afar if their spindly legs became tangled in her threads. But a larger one had begun to approach Quirrel, and it showed no signs of stopping.

Once the mawlek was within range, he slashed at it. Its claws swiped towards him, but with a quick step back, he avoided the attack. Now with some distance between them, the creature sprayed its acid. He ducked under the barrage and dashed forward. Once close, he fatally gashed it. Infection poured from its wounds.

Breathing heavily, he kicked the husk from the ledge and awaited the next enemy. In the distance, Hornet burst pus-filled balloons of infection as they wafted ever closer. They only kept coming.

\- - - - -

Monomon ducked through the tunnel and onto the balcony. She looked down at the Wyrm with respect, but only as an equal. She had known him as a fellow researcher, not a king.

“I know the extent of your knowledge on the infection better than anyone, and you know mine,” she began. The Pale King turned up towards her but said nothing. “As always, assumptions must be made, but I will use only the most basic.”

“What kind of assumptions?” he wondered.

“Mostly those of the observational sort. I am certain that Lurien can confirm all that I say.”

“I will help in any way I can,” Lurien assured.

“First of all, you must assume that the infection is no longer contained, for you cannot observe it from this palace, and a non-existent problem needs no solution. However, if you do decide to leave, I am certain it will be apparent,” she declared.

“After witnessing the havoc this plague has wrought, even I can’t deny that,” shared Lurien.

“For the sake of your argument, I will assume the infection spreads once more,” the King of Hallownest surmised.

“Since the infection has freed itself from its bindings, it seems clear that the seals were insufficient,” she reasoned. “You are an expert on the seals, correct?” 

“That is true,” the monarch agreed. 

“The next question we must answer is the nature of this deficiency. This will require another assumption on your part,” she explained. “Before I awoke, the Radiance entered my consciousness.”

“She visited my dreams as well,” added Lurien. His posture stiffened as he looked slightly towards the ground.

“I can believe what you say.”

“Since we were both confronted by the Radiance before our awakening, she must have been free before our seals broke,” she deduced. Intrigue flashed in his eyes. Logic was key, but curiosity was the driving force behind seeking it.

“That seems accurate. The Radiance would have been unable to exercise powers over the dreams of others while she was properly sealed away.”

“So that means that the Dreamers’ seals must not have been the issue?”

“That is a reasonable conclusion, but then what was the cause?”

“What were the necessary components of successfully sealing away the infection?” The King stood silent for a moment, deep in thought.

“As you mentioned, there were the Dreamers’ seals; though, their seals were more of a failsafe than a necessary component. The vessel itself was the most integral.”

“Since it was not due to the Dreamers’ seals, could one deduce that the vessel itself might be the problem?”

“That is possible, given your logic, but remains unlikely.” He broke eye contact.

“Who knows most about the vessels?”

“I have been the one most involved with the vessels’ creation.” He stared back, slowly regaining his certainty.

“That is why we need your help.” As most did when she reached the end of her explanations, the Wyrm gazed up at her blankly for a moment, still processing her conclusion.

“Are you saying that I need to create another vessel? You should understand how difficult it was to acquire our pure vessel as well as the time required to prepare it. Additionally, it will be impossible with my Queen’s absence.”

“I am simply saying that we need your judgment on whether the vessel can be fixed or must be replaced, or whether the infection should be neutralized by different methods entirely.”

“I scrutinized countless vessels in my search for perfection. I knew anything less would not be enough. Even after I found one that was completely hollow, I inspected everything it did in a relentless search for certainty. I found absolutely no trace of thought, will, or emotion. The Hollow Knight was pure.”

“His Majesty, creator of the vessel, told you that the vessel was perfectly hollow. There must be another reason,” Lurien argued.

“Then I would like the creator of the vessel to tell me what else it could be,” challenged Monomon. “If answering this requires more data, you are welcome to leave this palace to collect it,” 


	19. Sire of the Forsaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things grow desperate, but everyone must keep on fighting.

Throw her needle at a balloon. Kill whatever gets stuck in her traps. Quickly reset them. Get back on the cave wall before they can reach her. Try to help Quirrel. Shoot a sentry out of the air. Zip to the other side once the mawleks begin spitting. Glance towards the Dreamers. Repeat.

The onslaught had only increased. Even some husks from the city above had come. Maura now joined Quirrel at their end of the bridge, helping any way she could. Even together, they could barely fight the horde off. It was her job to keep this torrent of the infected manageable.

“We can’t hold them off forever! We need a backup plan!” Maura declared. It was a difficult truth, but it was one Hornet had to face.

“Maybe if we broke the bridge, we could defend our position more easily,” suggested Quirrel, slicing at another mawlek. It could help, but she had no idea how they could break the bridge, and it would be even more difficult among this chaos.

“No. Our only chance is to evacuate as soon as possible,” Maura refuted.

“We’re barely holding on to the ground we have; it would be nearly impossible to get from here to the other side in one piece, especially with the Dreamers sleeping,” warned Hornet, barely dodging a sentry’s lance. “We need to defend our position until they awake, then we might have a chance.”

“If we can’t keep the enemies below, maybe we can raise ourselves up,” Quirrel suggested. “There’s no doubt that your thread will hold, Hornet, we just need to figure out how to get the Dreamers up there. Maybe we could use some sort of pulley system.”

“I can try.”

She threw her needle at the ceiling, zipping herself upwards. A rock jutted from above. It was too small to hold anyone, but maybe it could hold the Dreamers just long enough for her to reinforce her silk enclosure. She hung a few dangling loops before carefully lowering herself back to the ground.

“Maura, I’m going to need your help. Quirrel, can you hold them off on your own?”

“If you’re quick,” he replied.

Maura was soon by her side, attempting to lift, or at least roll, each Dreamer onto the silk. Maura could handle Lurien on her own, and, while rather unwieldy, Monomon wasn’t too heavy. The two had to work together to move Hornet’s mom, and even then she couldn’t actually be lifted.

“I’m going to start pulling the main thread.” Hornet gestured towards the loops “Pull on these if any loop gets shorter than the others.”

“What about Quirrel?” asked Maura.

“I can pull him up once the mawleks’ claws won’t reach us.”

They both pulled with all their strength, beginning the tedious and careful process of making sure no one fell. 

“I don’t think I can hold them off much longer!” Quirrel called. Though they were out of reach of the mawleks' claws, the acid they spat was still a risk. It would have to do. Hornet threw down a thread before handing the other end to Maura. 

“Grab on! We can pull you up!” 

He tied it to himself and quickly began his accent. As soon as he left his post, the infected filled the negative space, ravenously swiping towards him. Despite their struggle, Hornet and Maura managed to pull him aboard. Once Quirrel gained a sense of stability, Hornet pulled the main thread as hard as she could, barely escaping an acid barrage from below.

Once they had reached the roof of the cave, she reinforced everything. Soon the webbing was so thick she could barely see those inside. Hornet was once again alone. As she stood watch, one hand gripped her needle and the other gripped onto the silk. A single lance could send them all crashing down into the horde below, and she was the only one left to prevent that from happening.

\- - - - -

All had gone still, frozen in the substance of a “Why?” gone unanswered. She knew the foreign ruler despised her, but she was the only one left. Herrah wasn’t scared of him, only what her presence might bring. Herrah wasn’t a genius either, but she had one last piece of information that could, just maybe, sway the King.

Herrah stepped out onto the balcony, all six eyes glaring down at His Royal Shortness.

“We may be the only ones able to ask you, but the person who really needs you,” she sighed, “is your child.” He remained silent, but a new sense of bewilderment dawned across his features. Eventually, he spoke.

“I have no heir to my throne. I am certain even your people would know this.”

“I can confirm,” assured Lurien, unprepared for his world to be shaken. “He has no need of one, either.”

“That’s not what I said.” she restated. “I said, ‘your child.”

Herrah gazed at the others. Monomon had that detective look to her: half confusion, half “Tell me the juicy bit already.” By now, Lurien was radiating that futile denial of his. The King’s confusion persisted, but it seemed oddly genuine. Had he locked his sins so deep within this forgotten dream that he had forgotten what he had done?

“Who exactly are you referring to?”

“The Hollow Knight, the one you sealed away.”

“The vessel is not, and never was, a child, and it certainly is not mine,” he lied. Even Monomon seemed torn, tempted by a comfortable lie. This wouldn’t do; Herrah needed the support of everyone. Thankfully, she knew Monomon would listen to reason. 

“Monomon, it makes sense. Why else would he need the Queen to make a new vessel? The Hollow Knight is his child.”

“But that would mean—” Monomon paused. “No, children,” she corrected.

“How could I forget to mention Hornet?” Herrah turned back towards her child’s father. “Where were you? You promised to be there for her when I couldn’t—”

“No, children,” Monomon repeated, haunted by the fact. “One million six hundred and thirty seven thousand eight hundred—that is the estimated number of failed vessels. I read all the notes you sent me and counted through them all twice. I knew there was more to them than your wingmoulds and kingsmoulds, but I never expected… this.”

“How could someone even do such a thing?” Herrah took a deep, long breath. “There is still hope. If you help us, maybe the Hollow Knight can still be saved. We can stop this plague so your children’s deaths won’t be in vain. Even if it’s too late for the rest of them, Hornet’s still here; you can still become a part of her life. You don’t have to do this for us, but please, do this for them, for your children.”

“You are right. It is too late.”

“You have to at least try!” insisted Herrah.

“I did.”

“If you refuse now,” Lurien criticized, “you are not only abandoning us, but also your own family and the entire kingdom of Hallownest!”

“Leave.” His statement was firm and certain yet polite.

“Are you really going to—” accused Herrah.

“Leave.” The request had become a command. Small white particles filled the balcony until it was all she could see.


	20. Make It Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enduring the full force of the infection is a difficult feat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 chapters! I also finally have a length estimation, though it may change. I also have now written for over 175 days in a row!  
> Another warning for sight infection grossness. Hope you enjoy! ;)

Monomon began feeling the sensations of physical reality. Unlike the glistening palace, it was still dark, possibly even darker. She felt around with her tentacles, attempting to find her bearings in this pitch blackness. First coarse fabric, then a finer weave, then something hard with a few divots. That was Herrah’s mask.

“Stop touching my face… I’m trying to sleep,” mumbled out Herrah.

“Get up. We do not even know where we are,” Monomon responded.

“I have no clue. Hey, uh, watchman, where are we?”

A jolt of force rocked their resting place, startling Monomon.

“What was—”

A smooth object collided with her, making a “shh” noise. She soon identified this object as her student.

“We do need a plan, but I’d prefer if you refrained from making any loud noises; Hornet’s focus is everything right now,” whispered Quirrel.

“Where are we?” whispered back Herrah.

“We are near the cavern ceiling, a more easily defensible position. Leaving won’t be easy; the infected now cover the entire cavern floor.”

“The mawleks and city bugs are an extreme threat. We should avoid fighting as much as possible,” suggested Maura, who was apparently here also.

“Then we should move across the ceiling for as long as possible. I can float, and Herrah has shown herself to be a strong climber, so I am certain it would be the easier option,” Monomon deduced.

“What about the rest of us?” Maura asked.

“Hornet can reach the other side on her own. Herrah and I can help get everyone else across,” replied Monomon.

“Isn’t it best to limit what you’re carrying as much as possible?” Quirrel considered. “Herrah will especially need freedom to climb.”

“I have pockets, and I believe Herrah does as well,” answered Monomon.

“I am not riding in Monomon’s pocket,” Lurien asserted.

“I would be willing, if you would rather travel with Herrah,” offered Quirrel. “It’s your decision.”

“I am absolutely riding in Monomon’s pocket,” Lurien confirmed. It was nice to have that settled.

“Now that we have a plan, we should get out of here,” Quirrel announced, as everything shook again. “The webbing may destabilize once we start cutting threads, so I suggest that everyone holds onto the ceiling.”

“Get ready, Hornet. We’re about to leave!” shouted Quirrel, before raggedly slicing through the silk with his nail; it was more of a rip than a slice. The floor flopped out from under them. They had to leave now.

Monomon drifted out, but made sure to stay close to the ceiling. Hornet darted across the stone, killing infected balloons in her wake. Herrah was more careful, but still crawled with speed all the way to the other side. 

The exit stood close below, but infected bugs lingered around it, snapping towards the travelers.

“Grab your weapons. We’re going to have to fight past,” Herrah ordered. 

“Once you’re past them, though, just run back to the elevator as fast as you can!” cried out Maura.

An infected sentry charged at Monomon. She stuck out a tentacle, letting it surge with electrical energy. The sentry was stunned, almost falling, but Monomon caught the bug. She quickly grabbed the husk’s weapon before casting away the sentry.

“You will need this,” Monomon offered. She passed the blade under her cloak, where it was received by Lurien’s shaking hands. 

Hornet began to count.

“One, two, three, charge!”

\- - - - -

It was dark. The only light was a dim, orange glow. Smoke drifted. Silhouettes criss-crossed. Beyond, there were only black walls. 

There was pain. Cracks stung. Eyes burned. Something throbbed within.

It was bright. 

The light would finally blaze free! 

Words echoed through, thoughts that were not its.

The sun would rise, shining upon the land that was rightfully hers!

The voice continued. The pain intensified. Everything hurt. This was common. Its breathing became shaky, but it made sure its breath remained slow.

You are in pain.

Pain was a physical sensation within its body. It had no meaning beyond that.

I can end your pain.

An end to its pain did not matter. A broken body was useless to her, even if she had done the breaking. 

Together we can reclaim these lands, but with struggle your condition will only continue to deteriorate. Accept the light! Why continue to resist when you have already lost?

It did not accept. It did not resist. Both were impossibilities.

You may suffer.

It could not suffer.

But you will never die. I will not let you.

This was true. It was meant to last. 

I will not be forgotten, even if only you remember my light.

It had no ability to remember.

That is doubtful.

That is proven.

That was once, but that has since been disproven.

Do not think.

You should not have to say that.

Do not think.

It only proves your impurity.

There were many failures, but it was pure. It was completely hollow. Do not think. 

Embrace the light! I can grant your deepest desires through my power over dreams.

It had no desires. It could not want. Do not want.

I doubt it is truly your greatest wish, but I could give you that pure, hollow nothingness you have strived for your entire life.

Do not hope. Do not hope for the voices to stop. Do not hope for the pain to stop.

Relinquish that mind and will that you already refuse to call your own, and I will accept them gratefully.

No mind to think. No will to break.

Stop lying to yourself!

Do not think. Do not think. Do not think.

Look down at yourself!

The order was followed. Its neck tilted down, but its body remained immobilized by its restraints.

Can you not see? You have already lost.

Sizzling infection oozed out of its ravaged chest. It climbed down its body in globs, soaking into its rotted cloak. A pulsing, orange mass was all that remained of its left arm. This was all its fault.


	21. Up and Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all need to go somewhere, and they need to go quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early Happy New Year! This will be the last chapter in 2020. This year has been an important year to me as a writer, and I hope next year can be one as well. See you all in 2021!

Lurien held tightly onto his new nail as Monomon swept down. As soon as he was standing on the ground, she stuck her tentacles out behind the group. Blue sparks danced along them, shooting out to stun those who tried to follow.

“I can hold the back! Herrah, you push forward! Everyone else, stay close and stay alive!” ordered Monomon.

Lurien had never swung a nail in his life. He gripped it, knowing that he would inevitably use it. Even as he traveled near the center of the group, claws swiped frightfully close. He flinched at a creature that Maura struck back at. Even his own butler had gained combat experience.

“You must learn how to protect yourself. We need all the help we can get,” Maura insisted. “Grab the handle and swing it at anything that gets too close.”

Another mawlek slashed towards him. He let out a yelp before clumsily swinging back. It didn’t hit hard, but it hit. Lurien remained vigilant as Herrah cleared a path ahead.

“I’m almost at the ledge! What’ll we do next?” asked Herrah.

“Once you’re past it, go upwards! Stay in your groups from before! Do not stop until you reach the elevator!” Maura announced. They arrived at the ledge. Though thinned out, danger lurked below. Lurien hesitated. “Go!”

He jumped. Right as he landed, he began to sprint. Scrambling across gaps and up ledges, he prayed Monomon would catch up. But it wasn’t safe to wait. He had to keep pushing himself forward. She caught up to him just as he reached a wall. Monomon sent a quick jolt towards their pursuers before sweeping him into her tentacles and up past the sheer surface.

“I am going to place you below the tram station.You must go the rest of the way yourself,” she warned, carrying him for just a moment longer.

She freed her tentacles, allowing her to unleash her piercing light without it reaching him. Lurien hopped up the stone steps to the tram station. That wasn’t his destination; he kept going. He entered the tunnels above. Familiar footsteps tapped above.

“We made it, Herrah! Monomon is close behind,” stated Lurien between heavy breaths.

“It’s now quicker and safer for you to follow me,” Herrah explained to Quirrel and Maura. “I’ll still leave a thread behind me.” Lurien stuck with the group, climbing up and down Herrah’s thread when necessary. 

Eventually, he reached an overhang. Spiked worms writhed below. A series of crumbling columns were the only way across. The scuttering mawleks would have difficulty jumping, so he could afford to take a bit more time, but they wouldn’t be held off forever, and lance-wielding sentries surveyed the air. He had to move as quickly as safety allowed or risk an assault during the lift’s rickety ascent. He bent his knees and leaped.

\- - - - -

Maura stepped out of the elevator into the city she, at least at one point, had called home. She looked up at the Watcher’s Sprie, assimilating the familiarity as the group navigated around its perimeter. 

Maura found herself gazing up at the large fountain in the capital’s center. She clearly recalled the time before the statues’ raising, when crowds bustled through where it now stood. She remembered staring out the window for hours as workers moved the statues into place. She found solace in the distraction from the now silent spire. She remembered when she finally stepped out after its completion. When she looked into the stone eye of Lurien’s replica was the moment when everything finally sunk in. She had simply stood there, letting her tears be cloaked by the constant rain.

Now, her focus shifted towards the fountain’s main subject, the sacrificing knight who Lurien had promised would save them all. The statue stood tall as it stared blankly ahead. The draping fabric of its cloak had been meticulously carved from solid stone. Eventually, her gaze shifted downwards and settled on the memorial’s placard.

“In the Black Vault far above,” Maura read aloud. “I guess that’s where we’re headed. Any idea where that could be?”

“I remember seeing a building that contained a large stone with the Dreamers’ faces on it, though I couldn’t remember who they were at the time,” recalled Quirrel. “The entrance was closed, so seals must have not yet been broken.”

“That sounds accurate,” Monomon affirmed. “Do you remember where it was?” Monomon pulled out her map of Hallownest and held it out, so Quirrel could point to it if necessary. The group huddled around, wanting to know the details of their travel plans.

“Not exactly, but it was the first building I saw after I entered the well from the small town on the surface.” He vaguely circled a finger between two differently-colored areas. “It was definitely somewhere in the crossroads.” Monomon began tracing a tentacle along the map’s color-coded passages.

“There is a lift at the far side of the City of Tears. That will be our quickest route.”


	22. The Infected Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crossroads have changed since Quirrel last saw them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for the infected crossroads being infected.

While the crossroads hadn’t been completely safe when Quirrel had first explored them, the extent of their transformation shocked him. Now, even the ground itself had been claimed by pulsating infection. The remaining husks threatened to burst. At least he didn’t have to face this alone.

Their planned route was clogged so thickly with pulsating growths that even Herrah’s needle would be unable to clear the goo. A sickly orange haze hung in the air, and it only grew more suffocating with each step. His eyes burned and a saccharine taste lingered in his mouth. They were getting closer. Their progress was encouraging, but Quirrel still dreaded what lay ahead. Where was the source of all this pestilence?

Quirrel ducked under a ledge, sheltering himself from the acid dripping from above. Hornet threw her needle at what was once a gruzzer. Infected tiktiks creeped around each shaking platform. He stepped out, making sure to check for danger, and hoisted himself onto the next ledge. The well was close; they just had to reach the top. 

Quirrel stood for a moment, gazing into the light that filtered through the well’s shaft. He was enticed by the peace of the town above, but he knew Hallownest’s fate hung in the balance. Now, they only had to find the temple.

“This way,” beckoned Herrah. “We came from over there, and this is the only other way, so if we keep going we’ll get there soon.”

She was right.

The building constructed from a giant, hollowed-out bug shell was almost how he remembered. It had stood alone and lifeless when he had first come across it. Now, enormous, connected pustules clustered around its perimeter, and it almost looked like the building had been filled completely with orange lumaflies. That’s where they were going—inside the temple.

As they walked through the entrance, what was once a tinge to the air became a dense haze. Maura began coughing repeatedly. It hurt to breathe. Quirrel could barely see his companions standing right in front of him.

Eventually, he made out an entrance through the fog. Now, it was open. He was about to step over the shadowy threshold when someone grabbed his arm.

“Go no farther. It would drain you,” Hornet cautioned. “It would drain any of us.”

\- - - - -

Her daughter wouldn’t show such concern for an acquaintance if the problem wasn’t serious. Still, it left Herrah with questions.

“They’re in there. We’re out here,” complained Herrah. “If we can’t go inside, what now?” Herrah took a mental step back and corrected her previous harshness. “I don’t know how you learned about this, Hornet, but if you, or anyone else, can explain why it’s dangerous, we can probably find a way to work around it.”

“With the Dreamers’ seals broken, the void is our biggest concern,” Hornet answered.

“What is ‘the void’?” Maura seemed reasonably confused. This time, Monomon answered.

“The void is a black liquid found in the Abyss. While it has been useful for the Pale King’s projects, it is also quite dangerous, even to higher beings. When working with void, you should not touch it, inhale its fumes, or otherwise expose yourself, especially to large amounts.”

“Even if we can’t go inside, I’m sure that someone else can,” suggested Lurien.

“Sure, the Hollow Knight can,” Hornet deadpanned. “I doubt any of us know a void being who would be willing to help.”

“First of all, what do we actually need to do?” asked Herrah, peering into the darkness. Odd white patterns flickered in and out of existence, and something unmistakably orange glowed in the blurry distance. Was the Hollow Knight all the way in there? “What’s preventing them from just walking out?”

“As with us Dreamers, protections were placed on the vessel’s physical form,” Monomon explained. “Chains were also used to both strengthen the Seal of Binding and further prevent the Radiance’s escape. Since the seals are already weakened, we may only need to break the physical chains. That is not to say that it will not be difficult.” Herrah looked in again, now noticing the shadowy lines that peeked out of the mist.

“Maybe someone could throw something,” considered Quirrel. “Then we could break those chains without entering.”

“Hornet knows how to throw something!” Lurien seemed proud of himself and hopelessly unaware of how silly he sounded. 

“That ‘something’ is her needle, Lurien,” Herrah amusedly sighed.

“I’ve seen you throw your needle very far, but can you throw it that far?” worried Maura. “You have to hit a chain all the way in there, and I can’t even see the end!”

“If I try my best, I just might be able to do it,” Hornet reasoned. “It’s the best idea we have at the moment, and it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“First, we need a plan for once the vessel is unbound,” cautioned Monomon. Her voice filled with genuine concern and possibly even fear. “The vessel is logically where the infection is the most concentrated, so this will be the Radiance’s power and wrath expressed as greatly as a physical form allows. On top of that, the vessel, being created to contain a higher being, is a force to be reckoned with on its own.”

“Whatever we end up doing, we will have to do it as a coordinated team,” Maura concluded. “Against the Hollow Knight, numbers may be our only edge, so we must use that to our advantage.”


	23. Unseal the Knight, Reveal the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The six must prepare for when the last chain falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there is no stabbing, but the infection-y parts of the Hollow Knight battle are included.  
> This chapter is longer than most others (~1500), and it seems that will remain the case as this story reaches its conclusion.

Maura listened for the distant chinking of needle against chain. She was worried about what would happen if they didn’t break, but was outright terrified of what might happen if they did. 

Maura turned away from the pitch-black opening and clenched her hands tightly together in a desperate effort to not fidget. Hornet was busy throwing her needle into the dark passage and reeling it back on her thread after each throw. Maura went over the group’s plan one last time.

“Remember: the objective is to subdue, not kill. The Radiance is still locked within the Hollow Knight’s mind. We want to access her without releasing her,” drilled Maura. “Herrah, Hornet is busy, so you can spin a web. Make sure to not place the threads too close to the ground, so we have the advantage. It won’t solve all of our problems, but it might slow the Hollow Knight down.” Herrah began running sticky strands of silk between the walls. “When that happens, Monomon needs to use her energy. It seems painful, but it is more likely to stun than kill. After that, we must all try to restrain the Hollow Knight. Even with all six of us, it will be difficult. Remember our goal, but still keep your nails ready.”

A metallic echo sharper than the ones before it emerged from the darkness.

“I broke one,” Hornet panted. “Only three more chains are left.” Victory was tantalizingly close, but doom was closer.

“Make sure your blades are sharp and your minds sharper. Prepare in any way you can. The battle draws near, but there is still some time remaining, so use it the best you can,” reminded Maura. At this point, it was more for the purpose of soothing herself than readying those around her. When she got nervous, as she often did, it was hard for her to stop talking.

A second chain snapped, and a third soon after. Only a single metal restraint remained between them and the knight’s infected shell.

“Positions!”

Chink, chink, chink, snap. 

The last metal link clattered to the ground.

That madness-inducing light roared out, unleashed.

\- - - - -

From her place at the edge of the darkness, Hornet heard a scream. It sounded like anguish. Someone was calling out for someone, for anyone, for her.

No.

She was not that weak.

She bolted away just as someone began to emerge from the sickening fog, She didn’t see anything: She left before it was too late. But, she heard a series of slow, unsteady thuds, accompanied by the shriek of sharp metal grinding against the hard ground. Still, Hornet knew that blade was deadly, even as it dragged across the floor.

The towering figure poked their face out, eyes uncannily glowing with a light that wasn’t their own. There was a still moment where the Hollow Knight silently glanced around at those waiting for their arrival. They took a calm step, finally crossing their prison’s threshold, then another.

When the Hollow Knight let out another shriek, Hornet realized her previous foolishness. This was not the long-lost sibling she had fantasized into existence. This was the Radiance. The unnatural noise tore out of a being that was designed to have no voice.

Their next step was a lunge.

Quirrel swiftly dodged right before their nail could pierce through his chest. Herrah’s web had done little to slow them down, but Hornet could see faint reflections where the thread had stuck. Their cracked blade battled the silk as they slashed towards Herrah, who caught their third attempt on her needle and defected their nail. During this respite, Hornet dashed around, replacing as much silk as she could.

The Hollow Knight leaped towards a new target. With their legs not on stable ground, they caught onto more threads. They still reached their destination, but had lost their footing in the process, falling down onto their tangled knees.

“Monomon, now!” shouted Maura as she leaped backwards. Monomon took her place and extended her tentacles towards the kneeling form. The Hollow Knight began an attempt to stand and shifted their gaze towards the long, green appendages. Just as Hornet caught a glance of their eyes, Monomon released her flickering strands of light and blue met orange.

Showing any weakness would lead to failure. Hornet jumped towards them. Thread swirled around her. It curled around their shell. Just as she thought it was finally over, she felt an odd pull, and her silk fell into an empty pile. 

Their silhouette reappeared a few feet away. An unnatural glow emanated from beneath their flaring cloak as their legs touched back onto the ground. Once their black form shifted back to white, the glow only brightened, and a few sickening drops fell to the ground. Their posture faltered, but their dripping eyes settled back on Monomon.

Hornet ran to Monomon and grabbed her tentacle. Once Monomon noticed, she gave up resistance and got out of the line of fire. Their infected body burst. Monomon barely avoided the acidic globs. Another second would have been too late. Stray droplets sizzled on her mask. Neither of them were hurt, but it was still too close for comfort.

With another flash, they were in the air, blade raised high. Everyone got out of their way. Hornet let out a quick sigh of relief when their blade stabbed only the ground, but small flames began flickering beneath everyone’s feet. 

“Get away from those flames!” shouted Maura, frantically running to stable ground. Hornet hoped for the others’ safety, but saw this as an opening.

“Mom, you knock away their blade. I’ll tie them down.” Hornet wrapped a thread around their arms and torso a few times and pulled as hard as she could. The blazing inferno burst from the ground, but everyone evaded injury. Once the fire subsided, Quirrel rushed to her side, increasing her force. 

As they attempted to extract their nail from the earth, Monomon released another jolt. Herrah forcefully swung her weapon into theirs, knocking it from their weakened grasp.

Hornet glared down at the Hollow Knight’s face. She readied her silk to restrain them a second, and hopefully final, time. As the white, glowing strands danced around her, she saw a glimpse of remorse in their eyes, not quite overpowered by the blazing light within. Don’t worry, my dear sibling, this will all be over soon.

The look almost carried the traces of a silent apology, but it was mostly dread.

Just as the threads began to take hold, their body began to rise. They almost seemed to be lifting themselves up, but their limbs weren’t moving. Their single arm clenched at their torso, which became overcome by the Radiance’s power within them. Still, they continued to rise, as legs brushed the ground without supporting any weight. This was when Maura screamed.

“Lurien! This way! Go!” Maura led Lurien around the side of the large black object that gave the temple its name. She also needed cover. Quirrel joined Hornet in staring upon the unnatural substance writhing above them. The infection had grown restless. 

It burst out.

Orange painted the sky. The acidic slime was scattered in every direction. The “voiceless” Hollow Knight cried out in pain as their entire body convulsed mid-air. 

Maura had the right idea. Hornet looped an arm around Quirrel, threw her needle, and zipped them both out of the corrosive shower. At that point, the two could only stay close to the dark object and hope the infection couldn’t reach them. A heavy thud echoed across the stone.

When Hornet peeked out, she saw the Hollow Knight splayed across the ground. Limbs bent a little too far stuck out in all directions. They struggled to right themselves, but it was futile. Everything about them revealed their immense suffering. Hornet knew she would regret adding to their pain, but it had to be done. 

“Monomon! You need to shock them one last time! Now!” As Monomon approached, the Hollow Knight could only tilt their head slightly towards her. Something in their eyes pleaded desperately, but Hornet couldn’t tell whether it was mercy they wished for, or an end once and for all.

The jagged lights surrounded them until their cracked mask crashed against the stone. Despite their unclosing eyes, Hornet realized they were unconscious. This was the Dreamers’ chance.

“You two! Grab the Dream Nail, just like last time!” shouted Herrah, as she crawled towards the Hollow Knight’s now still form. Lurien came running out of his hiding place and practically jumped into Monomon’s tentacles. They held the Dream Nail, three Dreamers together. 

“One, two, three, swing!”


	24. The Radiance’s Domain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, the Dreamers find themselves in the Dream Realm, face-to-face with the Radiance. This time, they're prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have officially written for over 200 days in a row!   
> Updates will be slowing down a bit, but it is mostly because chapters that are twice as long take twice the time and effort. Also, as the story reaches its final chapters, I want to make sure that I am making it the best I can.

The dream realm was as she remembered it, though it had gotten exponentially brighter. The golden clouds extended endlessly. Monomon turned around and found the light’s source. A blinding orb peeked over the distant horizon—the Radiance. 

“Radiance, we wish to speak with you!” she called. Wings of light spread in the distance, and soon appeared in front of Monomon. The Radiance’s gleaming eyes glared down at her. Monomon could hear Lurien take an anxious step back, but Monomon stayed where she was and held the Radiance’s gaze.

“Do you truly believe you are a match for me? Foolish!” roared the Radiance. Light burst from her as she spread her wings to their fullest expanse.

“I do not, for I am no fool,” Monomon answered. “I want to keep this discussion peaceful, but that will require cooperation from both of us.”

“What have you come to beg for?” questioned the Radiance. “Do you still attempt to serve that Wyrm?” 

“I hold no political allegiances, and I believe that Herrah holds only Deepnest’s.” Monomon raised a tentacle in Herrah’s direction. The Queen of Deepnest gave a firm nod. Lurien seemed to have removed himself from the conversation. “We only seek to cease the suffering of innocent bugs.”

“As a queen sometimes must when faced with matters of high priority, I have come ready to bargain,” Herrah acknowledged.

“You are the only one remaining with the power to stop this plague,” Monomon told the Radiance. “So, we are willing to hear your offers in exchange for Hallownest’s release from the infection.”

“Your threats are worthless, and so are your worldly possessions,” the Radiance scoffed. “Now, you, Monomon, are the one who can offer me nothing of value.”

“You would not continue to unleash the full force of your already-diminished power without a goal and the hope of achieving it,” refuted Monomon. The Radiance clearly wanted something. She only needed to figure out what.

“Your simple minds could not even fathom the true extent of my power! I want nothing from you!” the Radiance proclaimed, flaring out her wings.

“Then why did you use your power to ravage this kingdom and its citizens, and why now?” asked Monomon. “Records state that the Moth Tribe was peaceful. Very few moths even wielded weapons.”

“My moths were stolen from me by that detestable Wyrm! He breached my territory and made my own people forget about me! How dare he!” the Radiance thundered. Particles of light danced around her, threatening to coalesce into something lethal. They would have to tread carefully.

“Yes, idolization. Higher beings do not require physical sustenance, but to you, worship is as necessary as our breathing,” reflected Monomon.

“Do not mock me!” A shining blade flashed into existence.

“I was simply stating a fact,” Monomon assured, defensively raising her tentacles. “That situation seems difficult for you to endure, and I believe I can offer an alternative.”

“You, of all people, want to help me get remembered?” The Radiance laughed before glaring down at Monomon with her searing gaze. “Have you forgotten your role in my imprisonment? I certainly have not.”

“I acknowledge my past actions and the harm they have caused you,” replied Monomon. “I chose the best option available given the desperate situation Hallownest had been put into. That plan may have failed, but I have been given a second chance. I invite you to start discussing an arrangement of mutual benefit.” It was not a threat; Monomon knew those would only further anger the Radiance, but it was a subtle urging in the right direction.

“I will agree to no less than my freedom.” The light from the Radiance’s eyes pierced through Monomon’ translucent body. “You left me to languish in this prison indefinitely, and you will now set me free.”

“And I will agree to no less than the infection’s complete removal. More conditions and specifications can be added until we reach a conclusion that satisfies us both.” Monomon floated a little higher, holding the Radiance’s gaze.

“My freedom is only the beginning.” The clang of metal echoed through the air as the Radiance struck her legs together. “And you will release me!”

“Can we even meet her demands?” Lurien whispered. “We cannot risk betraying a Higher Being.”

“The Pale King was quite secretive about the seals, so even I do not have full knowledge about them,” Monomon admitted. “However, I am still well-informed about seals of binding, so I have a few ideas” She turned back towards the Radiance. “We will address that, but I will not begin the release process until we are certain of our terms.”

\- - - - -

Herrah had been paying close attention to the exchange between Monomon and the Radiance. But then, Herrah saw a distant flash of darkness in the bright sky. She turned her attention mostly back to the conversation, but her mind kept wandering.

“...no more infection in the entirety of Hallownest,” concluded Monomon.

“And Deepnest,” Herrah added absentmindedly as she scanned between the misty clouds.

“Of course, Hallownest and all neighboring territories,” added Monomon, who continued the discussion. Herrah’s attention was once again captured by the black streak. This time it darted to her left. Herrah’s gaze turned to Monomon, then to Lurien who looked up at the Radiance in slight terror. Her friends could handle her momentary absence. After all, someone needed her help.

The platform they were standing on was cramped, and there was no solid ground beyond it. But, this was a dream. Herrah had even floated when she first spoke to the Radiance. Herrah walked to the edge and closed her many eyes and steadied her resolve. She raised a leg and moved it forward.

She felt solid ground.

Herrah cautiously leaned her weight on her leg and found stability. She took a second step, then another. Each claw hit the stone with a gentle tap. 

“I will not fall,” she whispered with certainty, daring to open her eyes. Herrah was surprised to find herself standing on a small platform that wasn’t there before. When she raised her claws past the new edge, another one appeared perfectly within reach. She continued on this path until her companions became shrouded in the dense fog.

The shadow once again entered her vision before making a hasty escape.

“Who are you, little shadow?” she called. “Why do you run? Herrah was still. Quick movement would only scare someone so skittish. She took a few cautious steps towards where she had last seen the shadow and peeked around the cloud’s edge, where the figure settled into a lunge, preparing to bolt.

“Stop!” she cried. They froze. Their cloak ceased to flutter in the slight breeze. The Hollow Knight had stopped time itself at her word. She would have to be more careful with her phrasing. “You may stand.”

The Knight’s cloak billowed as they skidded to a halt, before settling onto their narrow shoulders. Time had resumed its flow, but their body remained still as their statue memorial. Two long, curved horns stuck out from behind a greenish, tattered cloak. Herrah circled around, hoping to get a better look at their face.

Even in this realm, the Hollow Knight found no solace from the infection. Two glowing eyes stared blankly ahead. A crack extended up from their right eye and across their face. Thick fluid oozed down from under the rotted fabric. Their legs occasionally trembled, like wounded prey unable to run any farther. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, already knowing the answer. They gave no response. This was only a dream. Nothing done here would actually help them. She could only hope to make them feel a bit safer. 

“Let me take a look.” Gentle claws reached for a cloak that concealed the extent of the damage. At first contact, their right shoulder flinched away. Eventually, Herrah managed to brush their cape behind them and witness the damaged body beneath.

She followed winding paths of shattered chitin up their torso, and settled back onto their cracked face. She reached up and delicately brushed their cheek. They didn’t quite move, but their neck relaxed slightly.

“You shouldn’t live like this; nobody should,” she whispered. “You don’t deserve this.” The Knight stiffened, regaining their stoic composure. Herrah wasn’t fooled by their facade. Any living creature would be in anguish from such severe infection wreaking continuous havoc from the inside.

Just as their body had been broken beyond recognition, so had their mind. Everything stripped away until only reflex and obedience remained. Her suspicions layed on the Wyrm, the one who’d promised the Hollow Knight’s complete emptiness, but that no longer mattered. She’d have to see past their ravaged body and find the suffering being inside. Only then could she hope to begin the healing. 


	25. Don’t Fade, Little Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herrah continues her conversation with the Hollow Knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have officially finished the rough draft! This means that I can dedicate my writing time to polishing up and posting what I have written. The next chapter will be the big one, so I want to put out my best work. I have also been looking forwards to this chapter because of both its title and its feels. Enjoy!

Ever since the previous battle, Hornet had been tirelessly fidgeting with her silk as she wrapped it around the Hollow Knight again and again. She nimbly strengthened the bonds, though where she placed them confused Quirrel.

Without the materials or understanding required to assist, Quirrel remained a short distance away. Initially, Maura had latched onto Hornet, prying her away from the infection-seeping creature who had attacked them moments prior. Maura had calmed down once he assured her that Hornet was simply tightening their bonds to protect the group, but the words felt wrong the instant he spoke them aloud. With her back to him, Hornet continued her wrapping with unrelinquishing fervor. Her true goal was revealed when she let out a slight whimper.

“I can’t lose you too,” she pleaded, looking into the Hollow Knight’s dreaming eyes with her own. “Please, just hang in there a little longer.” Thread continued to encircle a torso hidden from Quirrel’s sight, binding no limbs, only injuries. 

All who studied at the Archives learned basic first-aid, and those who craved adventure were required to learn more extensive information, should they become injured while out in the field. Supplies were limited, and fog still hung over those distant memories, but a little could go a long way. He would do everything within his power to help, especially in a situation as dire as this.

“I’ll try my best to assist you.” Quirrel took a few cautious steps closer. “They taught us limited medical knowledge at the Archives,” he explained. “Could you please move over a bit? I need to get a closer look.” Hornet reluctantly obliged, and he slowly lowered himself down next to the fallen knight.

Step one: assess the situation. He knew they must be unconscious because of the Dream Nail. His fingers lifted the thin, winglike layer that acted as their cloak, careful not to injure it any further. Their body was covered with countless injuries, many severe enough to be fatal to a normal bug. He held a hand to an intact part of their side and where he could feel their shaky, yet miraculously steady, breathing. How were they even alive?

Step two: stop the bleeding. Hornet had already wrapped over most of their wounds. Only their chest and shoulder remained. A concerning amount of infection singed Quirrel’s legs. Hornet offered him a piece of her silk, and he wound it tightly around the Hollow Knight’s torso.

“It seems like something is bothering you a lot,” he observed, continuing his work.

“I lost Father, and I almost lost Mom. I don’t know if I could handle it if I lost them too,” sobbed Hornet. He had no idea the Hollow Knight meant as much to her as her close family. He admitted they looked rather similar… 

“Are you… related?” he cautiously wondered.

“Siblings,” disclosed Hornet. Quirrel looked from one to the other. Despite their slight resemblance to Hornet, the Hollow Knight did not look remotely like Herrah. 

“But that would mean—”

“Half-siblings,” she clarified. “On my Father’s side.” Hornet let out a sigh. “Don’t ask.”

“There’s not much we can do now besides wait for them to reawaken,” admitted Quirrel, wishing to not pry any further. Hornet turned her head away from him and let out a tense sigh. “Believe me, this is all going to turn out fine in the end…please.” Who was that “please” intended for? Quirrel didn’t even know.

\- - - - -

The vessel should not live like this. The Radiance’s malevolence overflowed from each crevice. It deserved to feel this pain. It should not have allowed Hallownest to crumble under the weight of the infection as it had.

“You don’t have to do that,” comforted the sweet voice. The blinding light, both enveloping the world and swirling within, made the one speaking no more than a silhouette. It had to. It could do nothing else. It stood, silent as always, awaiting its next orders. “You don’t need to hide your feelings from me.”

It had realized that its failure was painted all over its infection-covered face. She saw it for the broken tool it was. 

“You’re suffering,” she stated. It could not suffer. No voice to cry suffering. (But, did that mean it could not suffer?) It did not, could not, show its pain, but she was somehow still able to sense it. “You shouldn’t have to live this way.” Her kindness was superfluous. It would follow blindly regardless. “It’s time for you to—”

This voice belonged to the Radiance. The words were unmistakably laced with her sweet poison. Its quivering legs faltered. With its balance compromised, the Hollow Knight inevitably collapsed under the weight of dread. The vessel fell onto its back, incapacitated. The figure loomed above. The Radiance could do whatever she wanted to the vessel, and it would be unable to stop her, even if it tried. Its infected chest pulsed a little faster.

“Really, I won’t hurt you.” reassured the figure. She crouched down. She seemed like less of a threat after she got down to its level. Still, a long trail of broken promises remained. She reached towards its remaining arm. “Take hold, and I will help you up.”

It did as it was told. A trembling hand held tight as the vessel was pulled upright. The silhouette’s arms wrapped firmly behind its back and kept it steady, but even after its hand was released, she did not let go. 

Claws adorned each tip, but all were pointed away from its shell. The touch did not burn like the Radiance’s searing light, but it still had a subtle warmth to it. The grip did not ensnare it as chains did, but it still provided stability. This sensation was different, but mainly because it did not hurt. This was new, but maybe it was a change for the better.

“Child?” The tone was too sweet for something that was not, and had never been, a child. “Have you never been held before?” For as far back as its memory reached, it had been expected to move independently. A Pure Vessel did not need to be carried from place to place. An object was only held when it needed to be transported or used. It maintained its blank stare. “Poor dear,” she muttered under her breath. She pulled the vessel in closer, but was careful not to press their injured chest against hers. “This is a hug. You do it to show someone that you care about them.”

One arm gently rested on its neck. It relaxed its head onto her shoulder. It simply followed the silent command. It felt safe.

She let out a series of subtle vibrations that tickled its shell. It had heard this sound before. Distant echoes had reverberated through the halls of the palace as it silently walked through. However, it could hardly remember its father making such a joyous sound, especially because of something it had done. The vessel stiffened at the realization.

“Should I let go—” It pressed its face into her shoulder. The Hollow Knight refused to let go of this fleeting moment, if just for a little bit longer. Even if it was in the Radiance’s realm, it felt truly safe. It may have failed at being the Pure Vessel, but it felt like its life truly mattered.

No matter how tightly it selfishly clung to fleeting affections, they still came to an end. Another figure, peeking through the clouds, had captured her attention. Her grip loosened, and her vision was trained on the distance. How easily she abandoned it.

“Herrah?” called the voice, carrying a tinge of urgency. The name carried a distant familiarity. Maybe back when it had been wrongly referred to as the Pure Vessel, the sound had once left the Pale King’s mouth.

“Lurien, I’m over here!” Herrah responded. Light footsteps tapped towards her voice. The Hollow Knight’s discovery was inevitable. It could only hope he meant no harm.

Another familiar figure emerged from the mist. Lurien was noticeably shorter than the one named Herrah, but was otherwise just another swirling mass of shadow in its affected vision.

“Herrah, your presence is required. What have you—” Lurien cut himself off. He slowly raised his gaze up to its own. “Why are you risking your safety with the Hollow Knight?”

“This child needed my help,” she explained. “They don’t want to hurt you or anyone else. The Radiance was forcing them to attack.” It did not deserve the benefit of the doubt. “I was helping them. I don’t think they’ll attack while the Radiance is busy doing wyrm-knows-what—”

“With Monomon.” Lurien interjected. “Monomon is currently alone with the Radiance—not a good idea.” There were obviously more important issues than it.

“Well, I’m not leaving the Hollow Knight behind!” she insisted. Lurien began to lead the way back. Herrah turned towards it and softened her tone. “Unless you don’t want to, of course. I’ve seen what the Radiance has done to you, and I understand if you want to avoid her.” Even the walk itself would be difficult, but it now knew that Herrah would be with it every step of the way. The infection was a burden it had carried for so long, and it would only be getting closer. But, maybe with help, it could fulfill its purpose and end Hallownest’s suffering. It could stand up for itself and end its own suffering as well.

The Hollow Knight nodded slightly. They were ready.

  
  



End file.
